What About Reasons?
by MercurialNight
Summary: "Her gloved fingers slid into his, and he yanked her along towards that flying symbol of freedom—to her role in a play with no script, where the leading man stood smirking at the doorway."
1. Vexing

**A/N:** Okay, so…due to another appearance of our fickle overlord called Inspiration, apparently I'm writing a new story.^^

Yes, I'm neglecting Andra for another self-insert and leaving Drizzt to brood with his annoying teenage insecurities. For now. I'll get back to them. Right now, though…I really really want to meet the sky pirates. XD

Could involve slight Balthier/Fran stuff, since I like that. No Vaanthier! Everyone's straight here.

* * *

"**And I'm doin just fine; I'm always landing on my feet,**

**In the nick of time and by the skin of my teeth.**

**I ain't gonna stress, 'cause the worst ain't happened yet.**

**Something's watching over me, like**

**Sweet serendipity."**

Ah, _man_, she'd been stupid. All her free life she'd been doing this—being a weaseling thief—and she'd never been caught before. Riley had sworn, on her neck, on her very own surviving life, that she wouldn't ever ever be so stupid as to get caught. So. Now she was wondering… How might one survive without their neck?

The lithe—scrawny, even—teenage girl flew around and over the many obstructions that lined the narrow street, shoving people out of the way as she needed. Mostly she just had to weave around them, though. With one hand she clamped a floppy, brimmed hat onto her head, being as it was having a hard time holding on for the ride. To her credit, she was doing a very good job outdistancing them. The armored goons chasing her were having a hard time keeping up. But they didn't give up easy.

What were they making such a fuss about? It was just a little _coinpurse_ for life's sake. The person she'd stolen it from surely had much more where that came from—him being Imperial and all…

She heard the rough voices shouting from behind. "Stop 'er! One o' yeh grab 'er!" Heh. They'd have little luck. No citizen around here would ever help catch a thief—especially not one who'd irked the Imperials. Unfortunately, none of them would go against any soldiers, either. So she couldn't expect help from these losers. But that's okay. She never could. It was a daylight escapade and she was on her own.

Riley's breath rasped in and out frantically; she was tiring. She had to find a way to shake them. Adrenaline rushes didn't last long, after all—and a right shame, that. A worried whimper escaped her as she glanced back. Those jerks were _gaining_ on her! How dare they. Rounding a corner, she looked ahead and saw her chance. The Sandsea! What better place to lose yourself than a tavern? Riley put on a burst of speed, blasting herself in the face with new wind that flung her hair back like a flaming meteor's trail. She hated being a redhead; it made her easier to spot in a crowd. Easier to chase. That's mostly why she wore the hat.

Mostly.

The patrons closest to the door were startled, to be sure, when our redheaded wonder-girl burst unceremoniously into the bar. She didn't even slow. She headed straight for the back of the room, taking the stairs to the upper level. It was more secluded, and less lighted.

But once she reached the top, she froze, skidding to a stop.

Was that a… Good grief, that's a viera!

The strange duo looked up from their drinks, their attention drawn by her somewhat un-graceful entrance. The hume of the two reclined in his chair, casual, but interested. He was…bright. And warm-looking. Maybe that was the intricate bronze-patterned leather vest, or the golden-brown hair, or those deep pools of hazel intelligence posing as his eyes. He would surely stand out in a hume crowd, but…next to her… The viera sat with her beautiful, long legs crossed, elbow propped on the table, a wine glass dangling from between her beautiful spider-leg fingers. Clawed fingers. Her hair was spun silver, or snow, or pure white clouds. Riley's eyes locked immediately on those magnificent spotted ears. The creature stared back coolly with exotic ruby eyes, challenging. That was a familiar look. A "what-are-_you_-looking-at" glare. But she couldn't look away. Viera never came to Rabanastre. This was a unheard of...this was a dream.

Right before the part where they probably would've growled at her to go away, the awkward moment was broken. Her Imperial friends had busted through the door.

Riley couldn't stop a terrified squeal as she ducked down, yanking at the brim of her leather hat. There was no time—she had nowhere else to go, except… Before her brain could even register what in this _world_ she was doing, Riley had slipped into the empty chair at their table, right between the veira and hume.

"Please," she addressed the startled man, rushing her words together in a harsh whisper. "Just for five minutes pretend I'm with you. I swear I'll pay you back somehow someday, but just— _please,_ I _can't_ let them find me!"

Looking very bewildered and not at all happy about it, the man opened his mouth to protest. But before he could say anything, one of the three imperials came rushing up the stairs. Riley crossed her arms on the tabletop and tilted her head down, the brim of her hat covering her face completely. She'd already tucked her recognizable bright-amber ponytail into the back of her oversized jacket.

"Listen up!" the soldier announced loudly. "We're lookin' fer a girl. Redheaded, scrawny little thing in a hat and overcoat. Who's seen 'er?" No one answered. It really made the soldier look stupid. "You cain't hide 'er! If nobody's gonna give us what we want, we'll tear the place up lookin."

The silence was palpable; no one dared speak. The place was filled with cowards. No one was going to stand up to them. Not here—or ever anywhere. But then…someone did.

"Well now. There's an attitude we've never seen before in a soldier." A smooth voice broke the tension, calm to the point of teasing. It had quite the suave accent to it.

In her astonishment, Riley dared a peek from under the brim of her hat. It was the hume she sat beside, completely at ease as he reclined in his chair, swishing his half-empty glass around in small circles. The imperial turned to him, wearing what was probably supposed to be an imposing glare. Riley suppressed the urge to snicker at him.

The soldier stepped forward, towering over them menacingly. "Just what're you about? What're you hiding?" Riley cowered further under her hat.

"Quick to presume, aren't we." The man shook his head lazily, a smile playing around his lips. "What in the world would I have to hide? I'm an innocent traveler. I _was_ seeking a bit of relaxation before we have to set off once more." Riley couldn't get over his voice. It was deep and warm like gold, and even though it was disinterested, it was incredibly smooth. His voice was freedom; it was the afternoon sun.

"I'd watch my tongue if I were you…" the soldier grumbled.

But the brown-haired man remained unperturbed. He even chuckled. "I do apologize, sir. My unruly tongue often seems to have a mind of its own."

"Yes…That much is undeniable." Here, the mysterious viera finally spoke. She had an accent, too: extraordinarily exotic and beautiful. Her voice was beauty and mystery. Her hume companion looked at her, raising an eyebrow sarcastically. She only shrugged with a hint of a smile.

"Enough! I'll not go playin your word games. Tell me _now_: Where is the girl?"

The man glanced down, discreetly. Riley realized with a jolt of terror that he was staring straight into her eyes. Oh no…oh heck no. _Would_ he? …No! She couldn't go to _Nalbina!_ Riley pleaded desperately with her eyes, shaking her head as much as she dared move. '_Please…you can't…'_

Finally, the brunette broke the gaze, instead looking straight up into the soldier's eyes. "Sir…I confess don't understand. If you've not found her here, why continue to look? Surely, it makes no intelligent sense. This thief of yours could be out of the city by now, for all you know."

The soldier glowered, hands wringing his sword handle. Finally, he waved a hand disgustedly. "Bah…this bucket of rabble's hardly worth the time." He turned to go, stomping for the stairs. Before he left, though, he turned back and thrust a finger in the brown-haired man's direction. "You, I'll be _watchin_. An' you best not give me any trouble."

The brilliant man smirked, waving a hand in the air. "The thought never crossed my mind."

The soldier growled and left.

For a moment, she just sat there, keeping her face obscured. After a few seconds of silence she asked quietly, "…He gone?"

"He is…" The man's voice mumbled.

Riley groaned in relief, leaning back in the chair as she put one hand to her heart. "Oh _wow_…geeze…check that off my list of 'never do again' that's for sure…"

"Augh…" He huffed an annoyed kind of sighing sound, propping up his head on his fingertips. "I'm sorry—_who_ are you?"

Riley snapped out of it, seeing his annoyance. "Oh I…I'm sorry, really. I just needed to hide, you know, and there was no time to…T-those guys didn't exactly like me much, you could tell, and…you know what happens to people…"

The older man leaned further back in his chair—yes it was possible—and rested his chin in his hand. He was so hard to read. She couldn't tell or not weather her "choiceless victim" act was selling with him. But, as she was staring into his face, trying to see his thoughts…something clicked. A dream on the edge of memory and pain… A face in a far away cage…

This guy was very _very_ different. This guy was…familiar.

Riley sensed he was growing impatient—his next words would tell her to leave. '_Think fast, think fast…save yourself…'_ "Um…Who are you?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Riley shrugged. "You got to ask."

At that, the man smirked in that confident, casual way of his. "Ah, but you can't use that kind of logic. You haven't told me who you are."

"Riley." She shrugged again. "Doesn't really matter. Not as much as your name."

Again, she'd succeeded in puzzling him. Riley loved confusing people. For some reason, it was even more fun with this guy. She got the impression that he wasn't normally confused much. She decided to further the cause. Even though it could get her in serious trouble…she couldn't resist.

Riley closed her eyes, turning her head down. Several seconds later, she started mumbling absently. "D…Dantare? …Huh-uh: Dal. …Dal_tier_." She opened her eyes, serving him a bright, hopeful smile. "Did I get it? Daltier?"

The hume wore an expression that came as close to shock as she supposed the suave man could wear. Heh. Well that was fun. "Well!" she announced, standing up from the chair. "Guess I'll see you later. Well prob'ly not. I mean bye."

She could feel his eyes drilling the back of her head as she walked off, hands in her pockets. So she wasn't surprised when he spoke. But she'd been expecting a question.

Instead, she heard: "A word of advice, if I may."

Riley turned around slowly. It was her turn to be puzzled. "Uh…kay?"

"When you're hiding in a crowd, best to do what everyone else does."

"…What?"

"You were too conspicuous," he explained. "Head down, face hidden, daring not to move. You should've appeared startled and resentful—like everyone else." As he finished, he lifted his drink to his lips, casually peering at her from over the rim of the glass.

Riley didn't know what to say. He really sounded like he was teaching her. It was gloating, but still. Maybe the smugness was just like…_ingrained_ in him, she guessed. At any rate…She was supposed to say "thank you." He wasn't expecting it. But she was supposed to. Only it felt like she'd die a little inside if she ever said "thank you" to this guy.

So, naturally…she turned and ran away.

….

Balthier shook his head in wonder, staring down at the bar's lower level as the strange girl disappeared out the front door. "Now what," he marveled, "was that all about?"

"She hides something."

He turned to Fran, who was looking into her wine glass as if uninterested. But Balthier knew it was really because she was deep in thought.

"What makes you say that? …Well. Other than her 'strained' relationship with the Imperials."

Fran looked away, her serious eyes toward the empty doorway. She didn't respond to his mirth. "It's as if she…attracts the Mist. It pools around her. It is reminiscent of viera."

Balthier could tell that she thought this nothing trivial, and he agreed. He shook his head, eyebrows rising in reluctant acceptance. "Suppose we keep an eye on her then. I didn't much care for the way she nearly guessed my name…" He sighed, taking another drink from his glass. "And here I thought we'd caught ourselves a peaceful repose."

"Not so." Fran turned her head towards him, snow-white hair dancing. "We'll not see much of peace for a while. Not with your boy around."

"He's not _mine_," Balthier scoffed. "Really, Fran, you of all people would hound me with that?"

Without a word in reply, Fran only smiled.

"I'm sure he'll leave us alone—until tomorrow, at the least. He's picked up another mark, apparently." He was changing the subject, without really changing the subject. He didn't allow Fran a chance to get it back on track. "Good thing, too. We won't be in Rabanastre for long and I'd like to enjoy the respite."

Fran's smile was replaced by a curious stare. But Balthier pointedly wasn't looking at her. If he didn't look, he wouldn't have to answer.

.~*~.

"**I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell.**

**I know—right now you can't tell.**

**But stay a while and maybe then you'll see**

**A different side of me."**

She hadn't planned on staying around. She was going to run until she got all the way to Lowtown or something. But right as she got out onto the street, Migelo caught her. Something about how he needed his shelves restocked in a hurry, and she worked quickest. And he'd pay her. It wasn't really in her style to work for money…but hey, it was _easy_ work for money. So she'd come. Riley didn't know Migelo very well, since she'd only done a couple of jobs for him in the past. But she knew he gave out work to a couple of other kids—orphans, but nobody she knew. Anyway, she liked him. He was the nice kind of gruff old geezer.

She was led to the shelves along a wall next to some crates of merchandise—potions and different drinks and the like. Her job was to put everything on the shelves where it went. Ext_remely_ easy. And being so close to such valuable merch'…If she didn't happen to like Migelo, he'd find himself a few bottles short.

While she was busy with her job, people-watching to pass the time, someone came in who looked very much more interesting than the other patrons. He was a young blonde around her age, with feathery hair and quite the peculiar clothing. Armor and a sword and all that jazz. He was carrying a small crate over his shoulder, though, and it looked like as everyday-natural on his shoulder just as fittingly as a hyena's biting jaws would look. Or a sack of loot. But not something like the arm of another person.

He found Migelo at the bar and walked over. "Here. This's the last of them."

"Ah, Vaan," the old bangaa greeted the boy. He pointed in Riley's direction, startling her into getting back to her work. "You can just take that over to the young lady; she'll stock it up."

"Ok. Say Migelo—I tried to ask you earlier. You haven't seen Penelo around, have you?"

"Ah, nope, I 'aven't. Not today m'boy. I wouldn't worry much—but get that box where it's s'pposed to be, would you? I can't sell merchandise if it's still in crates." Blondie opened his mouth again, but before he could talk, Migelo was rumbling along in that gravel-sore voice. "I have to run off for now, anyway, got some errands to be runnin—say Kytes!" He turned and called to a small boy who was busy playing with some other children in the corner. "Stay and watch over things, will you?" Small Boy nodded. Seemed weird to leave someone so young in charge…but who was Riley to underestimate the power of youth?

The blonde boy sighed, grumbling a reply, before trudging over to where Riley was busying herself. She was very good at pretending to be working hard. But she did look up when he spoke.

"Hey, uh…here you go." He set the crate down beside the others. There were at least seven or eight there. Ugh…maybe this was going to be more work than she'd thought.

"Thanks," Riley replied. But then an idea came to her. She grinned inwardly, hatching a plan. She rubbed the back of her neck, wincing as if it hurt. "Shewf…How much potion does a man need all in one pace? My back's killing me, all bending down and up and down..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It gets annoying." Then, just like she'd been aiming for, he added, "Uh…How about I help you out?"

Riley resisted the urge to grin. Instead she said, "Oh—would you? I mean I don't wanna cause you trouble or anything…"

"Ah, don't worry about it." He kneeled and opened the crate he'd just set down, taking out several potions. "Nothin' better to do."

Riley nodded, snorting a chuckle. "Ain't that the truth."

"…What's that supposed to mean?"

Riley looked at him and realized she'd screwed up. "Oh, I…No, I'm sorry! Aw, come on…I just meant I didn't have anything to do either."

She stopped when she saw the smug grin breaking across his face. She lowered her eyelids at him, but couldn't resist returning the grin. She pushed another potion onto the top shelf and gave a laugh. "Heh…Clever. I walked right into that one."

He smiled boyishly as he grabbed an armload of bottles from the crate. "Clever? You're the first person who's laughed, actually." Riley actually noticed his voice that time. His was hard to place. His was maybe sunlight on water. Or sand, or…dreams of daring.

"Can't imagine why." Suddenly she skipped to another subject, being random as usual. "Your name's Vaan, did he say?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm Riley. …Who's Penelo?"

She seemed to have struck a nerve. He looked like he was hiding a wince. "A friend…"

As he was occupied with what he was doing, Riley stared at him for a minute, frozen in place. "I could…help you look."

"…Huh?" He glanced at her mid-job, his hands still up on the top shelf.

Riley ducked down to retrieve a few more bottles, preferring not to meet his eyes when she confessed eavesdropping. "I just heard about how nobody'd seen her, so. You know—show me a picture or something; I'll help you look."

"You would?"

"Sure. Small thing. I gotta help you out somehow." She offered him a smile and added, "You helped me."

Vaan returned the smile, and she was happy for it. "Thanks..."

"No prob." Riley looked completely at ease, and he seemed satisfied with her mask. But underneath…feh. This wasn't like her. She hadn't been planning to pay him back…In fact she'd only meant to trick him into helping her work. But he was nice. He wasn't just another dope. And with her…well, _abilities_…finding people was a cinch. She could help easily and what did she have that was better to do?

Riley closed her eyes, hanging her head.

"…I don't…I don't think she's here…"

Vaan stopped what he was doing, looking at her with confusion. "Huh? ...Hey…Are you okay?" She kept her head bowed, eyes closed, and…Well that was weird. What was wrong with her eyelids? It was like they were glowing or something. Lit from behind…But that was crazy, unless she was using some new kind of magic.

"Vaan…who is…Be'Gannan?"

"_Who?_ …Riley, what's wrong with you?"

She opened her eyes, lifting her gaze to meet his. He was staring at her like she was a freak. "Oh—I, uh…" Her mouth worked in vain, stuttering, until finally she just blurted, "I-I can take it from here. I won't make you pick up my slack… You should be out looking, anyway, right?"

"Huh?" He wasn't sure weather he should be offended or not.

"Oh, don't think I don't want you around. I just…I gotta admit I was kinda using you. I don't like work… But, I'm still gonna help you." She finished with a genuine smile, at once assuring and hopeful. For some reason, it suddenly mattered very much that he wasn't mad at her.

He shook his head absently, bewildered. "Okay…Well you're probably right." He sighed, and she was glad to see he was dropping it for now. "So, I…guess we'll look when you're done here?"

Riley beamed. He was put off, maybe, but not mad. Why she cared escaped her. "Well… I'll be done quick here, but I got stuff to do afterwards. So come get me tomorrow—around noon, okay?"

"Sure." Vaan offered her a final smile—one of trust. She hadn't bargained for that. Even though she was happy he wasn't mad, she was uncomfortable with his _trust_. But she didn't let him see.

He started away, but at the door stopped and looked back. "Oh—! Uh…Will you be at your house tomorrow? I mean, where do I come get you; where do you live?"

Riley straightened up from the box to look at him with eyebrows raised, staring like he was crazy. She started to laugh. "Live! Heh, oh man…" She paused to giggle again. "Ahh…Tell you what. I'll meet you at the Sandsea, how's that?"

Vaan seemed less confused now, but surprised. He nodded and turned to go.

Riley shook her head, still giggling to herself as she reached for the top shelf again. "Heh, 'Where do I live.' Good one, that."

Vaan paused to hear, looking back once more with something like sadness in his eyes. Riley was busy with what she was doing and didn't see. Having nothing more to say, though, Vaan finally decided to stay for a bit. Maybe Kytes could offer something that Migelo didn't know—or just wasn't telling.

….

"**See I got you all figured out.**

**You need everyone's eyes just to feel seen.**

**Nobody knows who you even are,**

**Who do you think that you are?"**

Not long after, Vaan came out into the bright streets, his mind buzzing. Without a doubt, that'd have to be the _weirdest_ chick he'd ever met. But…interesting, at least. Everybody else around here was so boring. Usually. Now, there were some pretty interesting characters hiding out in this backwater town. Pretty interesting pirate characters.

A _sky pirate_. All his life, wasn't that what he dreamed of? And he'd met one. Finally. One who was arrogant and over-presuming and who'd tried to bully him out of his fairly-stolen treasure. Even so, the more trouble he got himself into, Balthier got him out. He wouldn't have even been in prison if it weren't for the pirate…but at least he'd taken responsibility for it and gotten him out alive. He remembered what happened in the ring, with those stupid seeq.

"_I said you're the one that stinks, Hamshanks. Hear me now?"_

That was an epic line. It was a fearless line.

It was annoying, though, too. Vaan did not enjoy being protected, like some kid. He didn't need a nanny—not even a pirate nanny. Vaan grinned deviously, imagining how the arrogant pirate would scowl at being called that. Anyway…times like then, in the ring, it only proved Balthier right about how he saw Vaan: an annoying kid he had to look after. And Vaan absolutely hated it when Balthier was right.

He'd prove him wrong.

Eventually. But right now, there was this thing to do for Kytes. The younger boy hadn't seen Penelo either; apparently she'd taken a day off or something. Wasn't that just his luck. At least he could pass the time with this chore that Old Dalan needed doing. Besides, he needed to thank him for the help on getting into the palace.

…What did Riley mean: she wasn't here?

You know what…Dalan could wait until tomorrow. He wanted to _introduce_ Riley to the wise old coot. Or rather—introduce Dalan to her. Maybe he'd be able to tell what was so strange about that girl.

….

"**All night  
Hearing voices telling me  
That I should get some sleep,  
Because tomorrow might be good for something."**

The nights were worse now. Mostly from the cold. Usually it wasn't too bad, even in the winter, because the homeless people formed big huddles when they slept in the alleys. But Riley wasn't allowed in any more, ever since those stupid nightmares started. Something about she 'thrashed in her sleep' or whatever. Apparently she'd left more than a few bruises. People even woke up with scratches, and that was very not-good for her either. She'd need to get some new gloves if these were already wearing out. Maybe tomorrow she'd hit the armor store. Stealing from Panamis's place usually wasn't too hard.

Right now, though, she was really wishing she'd pilfered herself a blanket. She'd never needed one until now. But as she huddled in the mouth of the alleyway, cuddling the cold stone with her back against a wall, her jacket wasn't doing a great job. It was plenty big enough to cover all of her, if she curled up in a ball, but the tired brown fabric was wearing thinner. She needed a new one.

She shifted into a tighter ball, hugging her legs to her chest. Man, this sucked. She'd never known how suckish this was, before tonight. Misery loves company. And all that jazz.

It was probably better she slept alone. Who knows if one of them might knock off her hat while she slept? Wouldn't that be a scene to wake up to. Earlier she'd tried to get them to let her in the huddle, but that encounter didn't exactly have a grand turnout. Nevermind the bruise under her eye, but when that hobo kid hit her, she'd nearly lost the hat. She had to be more careful if she was gonna be a full-time loner now.

Fine. She could do alone. Careful, though…gonna need a little help with that.

Riley put all the thoughts away for the night, locking them up in that cupboard in the back of her mind. She soon fell asleep.

….

"**And I know.**

**I know they've all been talking 'bout me;**

**I can hear them whisper.**

**And it makes me think there must be something wrong…**

**With me…"**

"Hey. Girl."

Nearly an hour later, she felt something intruding on her light sleep. Something hard poking her in the ribs—repeatedly. Felt like a boot. Very annoying. "Mmf…Lemme 'lone…" She shifted so that her legs protected her stomach

A hand patted her cheek lightly. She swatted it away. Someone huffed an annoyed sound. "Come on, girl, wake up."

"Try using her _name_, perhaps." Boy…that was a peculiar accent…

Balthier glanced back up at Fran, glaring. She crossed her arms and shrugged. Huffing another sigh, he turned back to the huddled figure. "_Riley_, then. Come _on_—I'm tired. I want to go home."

Hold up…she knew that voice. That was the voice of gold…

Riley opened her eyes, blinking until the fuzz cleared. She couldn't tell that great in the darkness…but…he looked familiar. "…the heck? D…Daltier?"

He snorted a laugh. She was endearing. In a way. "It's Balthier. What are you doing?"

"Oh…uhh, well…" She sat up, unfolding from her little cocoon, and sat cross-legged as she rubbed her eyes. "Sleepin. _Was_."

"In the gutter, though? Isn't that rather uncomfortable?"

"What're…you talkin m'bout?" She slumped back against the wall, looking at him groggily. It was hard to think when she'd just woken up. Riley was a fan of her sleep. "Duh, 's uncumf'rble…"

Balthier glanced behind him again, fixing Fran with a look. Like a 'Do I really have to do this?' kind of look. She didn't say anything, so he was forced to turn back to the girl.

"Alright…What do you say you come with me, mm? You could sleep in a place utterly devoid of cockroaches."

Riley seemed to come more to awareness at that. He held out his hand and she stared at it, confused to the point of suspicious. Was he helping her? What on Ivalice _for_? "What're you…"

He interrupted her. "Look, do you _want_ to stay here cuddling dirt all night long?"

She lowered her eyelids—sarcasm in facial expression form. "Sure, that's why I never spend any of the billions in my parents' bank account."

She was not taken by his ensuing grin. She also did not note how handsome it was. "You must admit, though," he continued, "I do have a point."

"I don't like to admit anything," she responded coldly.

He glared at her dully, then glanced back at his companion. "I can tell already, this one's a character. Really, is it worth the trouble?"

At that, Riley turned down her eyes, glaring at the stone ground. She'd have to choose. Pride? Or a warm place to sleep for the night? After a moment, Riley replied quietly, "But…But I will because cockroaches are annoying."

Balthier turned back. Slowly, a smile found his lips, and this time Riley didn't hate it—because it was a small, genuine smile, nearly void of smugness. He held out his hand once again. Slowly, her own gloved hand reached out, hesitated, reached again. Then she realized with wonder that he was pulling her to her feet, his strong, gentle hand warm around her threadbare glove. As she rose she looked into his eyes, so full of an unfamiliar notion...kindness.

He led her away, and as they walked she still held onto his hand like a child. She was expecting to be lead to an inn or something, but they just kept walking until they were on the outskirts of town. They brought her to a two-story house. Very high-class. Balthier let go of her hand—she couldn't deny a sense of loss—and went to the door.

Instead of taking out a key or anything predictable, he reached into his pocket and took out an item with which she was very familiar. A lockpick. She shook her head at him incredulously, looking from him to the viera and back again. "What're you…man, don't you _live_ here?"

Balthier, knelt by the door handle, mumbled an absent reply. "Mm…Not precisely, no."

She stared silently at this man, this stranger…and wondered about him. And she smiled.

The door clicked open and they led her inside. Fran closed the door behind them. A light was turned on, revealing a living room decorated with expensive furniture, revolving around a gigantic couch. "Not bad…" Balthier observed, boots clomping as he went further into the house. He turned around, facing her. "Alright, Riley. The couch is yours."

She nodded, but didn't move. She was trying to read him again.

He behaved like he didn't want her around, and she could deal with that. But what she didn't like was the confusion. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. What were his motives, his thoughts? What about reasons? Like his veira friend, this 'Balthier' couldn't be predicted. He couldn't be read. Though with him, it was personality, and with her…coldness. But maybe coldness was just part of _her_ personality.

She turned her eyes to the veira. For the third time that day—and she knew it was a dangerous thing to do—Riley closed her eyes and bowed her head.

"S'cuse me—miss?"

The viera looked her way. "Yes."

"Is your name…" Riley opened her eyes, locking onto the veira's crimson orbs. "Fran?"

Fran's eyes did not register surprise, as Riley had expected. She looked to Balthier, who was shaking his head, staring at her in wonder.

"And that is why it is worth the trouble." Fran moved past him, towards the stairs in the corner. He followed behind.

When he thought he was out of earshot, Riley heard him mutter: "How come she got _your_ name right?"

Riley smiled. She didn't know what Fran had meant, and she didn't know what they meant to do with her, or why they'd taken her off the streets. But she didn't worry. She liked them. _'Meanwhile, doesn't that couch look comfortable…'_

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy or it's characters. Only Riley is mine.

Lyric headings: "Sweet Serendipity" by Lee DeWayze (weird name 0.o), "Cooler Than Me" by Mike Posner, "Unwell" by Matchbox 20


	2. Street Rats Have Secrets, Too

"**I won't ever change…**

**I'm like a bird; I'll only fly away.**

**I don't know where my soul is.**

**I don't know where my home is."**

Leaning against the doorjamb between the living room and kitchen, Balthier stared across the room at the sleeping girl on the couch. Fran was behind him in the kitchen, making coffee for the two pirates and breakfast for the girl. He heard the clinking of ceramic mugs and imagined how good said coffee was going to taste. His nerves needed it, anyway. His nerves always needed calming when he talked to this 'Riley' kid.

It was Fran's suggestion. She wanted answers. Why on earth she couldn't possibly talk to the girl herself was beyond him. But he wanted answers, too, and even though it was an annoyance, information was well worth it. The girl had known their names. Well, she'd known Fran's name—and guessed very closely to his own. As a wanted pirate, Balthier valued his anonymousity. Headhunters were very clever with their placement of spies these days…

He wanted his answers, but it'd have to wait until she woke up. He'd already tried to talk to a sleep-deprived Riley. It was impossible to get any intelligent thought out of her unless she was rested. But, watching her now, he couldn't see how a sleep like that could count as 'rest' at all. She'd been tossing and turning like a maniac.

Balthier sighed and walked towards the armchair that sat beside the couch, figuring that if he must wait, he may as well be comfortable. As he sank into the soft padding he silently thanked the absent owners of the house, for having such high taste. And for having locks that were easy to pick.

Balthier suddenly felt that something was out of place. He glanced around the room, then finally over to the couch. Riley was sleeping peacefully. So why the uneasiness? Balthier sat forward, trying to see into the kitchen from where he sat. He wasn't hearing Fran anymore.

Then it clicked. Riley: sleeping peacefully.

He looked back to the girl. She lay with her face half-buried in a pillow she'd found, one arm dangling towards the floor and the other somehow twisted over her head, gloved fingers brushing against her ear. Her fiery hair flew all over the place, having long previous been pulled from its ponytail. Riley's eyes were gently closed, whereas before her face had held a constant angry grimace. Balthier shook his head and got up from the chair, heading back for the kitchen.

He was stopped at the doorway by a fearful moan. He stopped, eyebrow rising with interest, and turned back around. Riley was fighting with her blanket again.

Balthier narrowed his eyes. Developing a theory, Balthier stalked over and resumed his spot in the armchair, watching the girl closely. To his discomfort, she gradually began to calm down again. She settled into the pillow with a slow sigh and was completely still.

Balthier scowled, disgruntled. Just what he needed, another kid to latch onto him. He did _not_ resemble a parent figure whatsoever; why did he keep attracting lonely orphans?

Just then, Fran came into the room with two steaming mugs. Balthier smiled as she walked over and handed him his. He mumbled an absent word of thanks, already drinking generously.

Fran took a seat in the remaining loveseat, across the coffee table. She stared at her hume partner from over the top of her own cup—which contained not coffee, but tea. The kitchen was very well-stocked; Fran was enjoying the house owners' prosperity no less than her partner was. Granted, it didn't matter to her quite as much as it did him. It was nice, though.

"She is at ease," the viera observed, glancing at the hume girl.

He smirked lightly—but there was something hollow about it. "Naturally. I'm sitting with her."

So that's what was vexing him. Why was that, she wondered? Fran knew already that he was uncomfortable with being looked up to. She saw that in his dealings with the boy. To anyone else, it would be a surprise that one such as Balthier could harbor insecurities. To her, it wasn't such an unbelievable concept.

Fran glanced up, ears twitching, as the girl suddenly stirred. "Here—she wakes." The viera stood and went into the kitchen to get the girl's food. Balthier sat back in his armchair, drinking his coffee. Finally, time for answers.

As she slowly faded out of sleep, Riley was immediately aware that lots of things were out of place. For starters, underneath her was a soft couch, and not the stone of an alleyway. And another thing: she wasn't alone. Someone was sitting in a chair beside her. And…well what do you know… She was waking up on her _own_. Without the help of a nightmare to scare her out of sleep. What's with that?

Riley shoved herself up, glancing suspiciously around. But after the initial moment of confusion, she remembered what happened last night. "Oh…" she sighed in relief, sitting back on her knees. She glanced at the chair beside her—it was that guy again. Balthier. "Hi. Forgot where I was."

Balthier nodded, but it was just a reaction, she could tell. She yawned widely, stretching her arms over her head. Unseen by the girl, Balthier's eyes suddenly widened. Her teeth…the top row held two tiny fangs among the other normal ones. They were like viera teeth.

Riley rubbed her eyes sleepily, but her grogginess was wearing off. Waking up quickly was a habit one developed when you lived out on unpredictable streets. She turned around suddenly, looking towards the kitchen, seconds before Fran appeared with her breakfast in hand.

Seconds _before_ Fran appeared. Balthier took important note of that.

"Hi!" The girl beamed at Fran, who nodded in reply and handed her the plate. Riley looked at it curiously for a moment, glancing from it to the viera to Balthier. Finally she took it. "Um, sure…" she mumbled, as if it was a peculiar thing. Probably was for her, Balthier thought. He doubted if many people ever gave her food for free.

"Well," he began, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Call me impatient, but I think perhaps now's the time for talking."

"Sure," Riley mumbled through a mouthful of food. "Talking. Go for it."

"Let's start with who you are," Balthier replied, getting straight to the point. Riley liked that.

"I told you who I are. _Riley_." She scarfed another mouthful, using her fingers more often than the perfectly good fork laying on her plate.

Balthier suppressed a disgusted grimace. "Oh come, at least take the gloves off…"

Riley shook her head once. "Never take the gloves off."

"Right…" Balthier shook his head and continued. "More to the point, then. How did you end up—if I may be frank—living in the streets? …Where do you come from?"

Riley stopped eating. A rare deepness of thought came into her eyes, which suddenly seemed sharp and dark. She didn't reply for several seconds. When she did, her voice was quiet and steady. "Don't really…remember it."

Balthier stared into her eyes, but she stared straight down at the coffee table. Covertly, he threw a glance to Fran. She returned the look with a nod, prompting him to go on.

"…Well then," he continued, turning back to the girl. She was back to happily scarfing down the food, looking as if nothing had happened. But Balthier knew much of facades; she was clearly acting. The guise of ignorance kept her ignored; she irritated people to the point that they wouldn't bother trying to get a serious conversation out of her. Useful trick. But now his curiosity was piqued.

"I want to get straight to the point," he continued, his voice softer now. But his eyes reminded her that he was all business. "I need to know where you heard of us from. I'd like very much to know how you almost knew our names."

"But I knew Fran's name _all_ the way."

"Yes you did. Impressive." Riley resisted the urge to scoff at the false compliment. At least her guise seemed trickable. And he was a very good liar. "And how did you?"

Riley shrugged, the shadowy hint of a smirk playing around her lips. "I have approximate knowledge of many things," she countered, meeting his eyes with a level of smooth confidence to mimic his own. But exaggerated. The little brat was mocking him…

Riley suddenly broke the gaze to set her now-empty plate on the coffee table. She'd finished every morsel. "Thanks for that," she mumbled at Fran, looking up with a small, hopeful smile.

Balthier was silent, staring her down for a moment. She must be very attached to Fran to express thanks, since gratitude was obviously a difficult concept for the girl. Balthier leaned back in the chair, linking his fingers together in front of his mouth. Strange notions she held onto. He was silent for a long moment, staring contemplatively.

At length, he said quietly, "Riley. Do you ever take the hat off?"

She glanced at him briefly, still much more interested in Fran. "…Um what?"

Balthier glared in annoyance, finally growing fed up with this impossible street rat. There was only so much he was willing to take, and ignoring him had tipped that scale. He set his coffee mug down rather forcefully on the table beside him, causing Riley to look his way with a start. She knew she was in trouble when she saw the dark edge to his eyes. "Riley, dear…this conversation is going nowhere fast."

Riley put her hands in her lap, ducking down slightly in submission. That "dear" was by no means a term of endearment. Without waiting for an answer, Balthier went on. "I want to know where that insight of yours comes from," he demanded. "How do you know all this about us—and what else is there?"

Riley looked uncomfortable for the first time. She glanced around, chewing on her lip. Then her eyes widened and she slapped herself on the forehead. "Aww, man—you know what? I'm supposed to meet somebody right now. I com_pletely_ forgot. Can we talk fast? He's kinda countin on me and all…"

Balthier decided to let her derail the conversation, in hopes that maybe he'd find out something about her through this new lead. "Might I ask who?" It didn't sound very much like a question.

Riley shrugged, standing up. "Some blonde kid I'm helpin out." She picked up her empty breakfast plate, heading for the kitchen. "Hangon and let me clean up after myself. Just cause I'm homeless doesn't mean I gotta be a slob."

Balthier nodded, masking his disappointment. He really had wanted to find out more than that. When she came back, he'd have to change tactics. This type of interrogation called for more subtlety.

But after several moments passed and she was still gone, Balthier sat forward in his chair. Fran was likewise suspicious; they both stared at the doorway to the kitchen. Not even a sound. The pirates looked at each other for a split second, then suddenly leapt to their feet, bolting for the kitchen.

Empty kitchen. Open window. One plus one equals…?

Balthier groaned and shook his head, covering his eyes with one hand. "Brilliant," he grumbled, as Fran hurried to the window above the sink.

"Gone," Fran announced, turning to Balthier with a look of slight confusion. "How did she know to run?"

Already walking away, Balthier threw up his hands. "She has approximate knowledge of many things." In other words...Who cares.

….

"**And I don't want the world to see me.**

**I just don't think that they'd understand.**

**When everything's made to be broken…**

**I just want you to know who I am."**

Riley sprinted along the alleyways, holding her hat onto her head, laughing uncontrollably. A good escape did wonders for lifting her spirits. She ran until she'd reached the shopping district and figured it was far enough. She stopped, leaning up against a wall to catch her breath.

Riley slid down the wall as her laughing bursts grew farther and farther apart. Soon she was sitting on the stone, resting on the rocks. In the shade of the buildings. In the shadow of Rabanastre. She glanced down at the ground as she felt a cockroach crawl across her sandaled foot.

Riley's grin fled. What had she really escaped at all?

All those days of the same mundane routine… The same thievery over and over every day, no breaks, no excitement, no company. She _had_ escaped—from her stupid life. And here she was running right back to it. It was really different this time. In the past, Riley had been taken in by many a kind soul, given a place to stay for a night, for a week maybe, and always she left after a few days. But never before had she felt a sense of loss.

None of them had viera. None of them had the voice of gold.

Riley sighed and got to her feet, trudging along on the edge of the thin but lively crowd. She pulled her jacket closer around her, even though outside it was warm as any other Dalmascan day. Inside, it was freezing and lonely.

Panamalis's Protectives was close by. She may as well get those gloves before she went to meet Vaan.

Arriving at the crowded shop, Riley pushed the door open and came into the dimly lit store. Only her bright red ponytail could be seen, trailing out from under the wide-brimmed hat. It didn't take more than five minutes to get in, swipe some leather gloves, and get the heck outta Dodge. It was busy in there today. People were scared since that whole palace-attack thing. Lucky for her, busy business meant lots of chaos to distract the owner while she stole right from under his nose.

Riley didn't dare go out onto the street just yet. Way too many people for a glove exchange. And the alleys wouldn't do; too many homeless children. She finally just slipped into the back storage room of the shop, locking the door behind her.

After making absolutely sure she was alone, she whistled a sigh, sitting down on a crate. She brought up one hand and pulled at the thinning fingers, one by one. Finally, the whole glove came off, tearing several holes in the process.

Riley stared sadly down at her bare hand. The slender, graceful fingers, always protected by the gloves, were not calloused and dirty like the other homeless kids. The only beautiful part about her. But, in her opinion, the most attractive part was the one she had to keep hidden. On the tips of her fingers, instead of fingernails she bore smooth coverings like a beetle's shell. They narrowed at the tips into little black claws, each one protruding about a quarter-inch long. They'd grown since last she'd seen them.

She reached up and ran her claws along the wall beside her, gouging three long scratches into the wood. Riley smiled._ She_ liked them. But other people wouldn't. Her whole life would turn out like her exile from the sleep-huddles.

She took off the other glove, wasting time for a minute just to enjoy the rare feeling of air against her hands. She reached out to feel everything around her—the grain of the wooden wall, her own soft skin, the smooth polished glass of the potion bottles in the crates beside her. Her fingers craved sensation. She wanted to run them through her hair.

Riley bit her lip on a grin as she reached up to grasp the brim of her hat, careful to keep her claws from poking holes. With a muffled squeal of delight and terror, she yanked the hat off her head.

Her vibrant red hair cascaded down from its prison, dancing down her back. And poking out of the beautiful tangled mess, from the top of her head, there was a pair of furry, bright red, black-speckled ears. Animal ears. They bore a resemblance to those of the viera, but were much shorter and pointed at the tips, sporting little tufts of fur at the ends. Riley loved her ears, her crazy beautiful circus-freak ears. She twitched them, swiveled them around, laid them flat on her head and then popped them upright again. She ran her fingers through her hair, stroking the silken fur of her ears. Riley closed her eyes, smiling in wistful wonder. It was utter bliss—just to feel.

After a few minutes of reveling in her freedom, paranoia was grating on her nerves. Someone could walk in at any moment for supplies—this being the supply closet and all. Reluctantly, Riley once more donned her hat, along with the new gloves. The fingers of these were thicker, so hopefully it would take longer for her claws to poke through. …She wished the gloves _would_ fail. Right out in the open and blow her cover all to smithereens. Because of course she'd never do it.

Riley sighed and stood up from the crate. She slipped out of the storage room, back out into the world and…back to her life.

….

"I was going to ask Kytes to do it, but I should think that you will do. No…no I think you're just the one."

Riley shifted her weight to one foot, resting one arm on the dresser beside her and propping up her head with her hand. This Dalan guy was an interesting old man, when he wasn't talking your ears off. She amused herself by blowing at a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face, while Vaan chattered away with the old man. There had been mention of something about Nalbina, but Riley had been too interested in his cute little purple rabbit-thingy to be listening.

Then Vaan said something that piqued her interest. "…wanted to say thanks for the help getting into the castle. Couldn't have done it without you."

Riley stared at the back of his crazy blonde head, gaping. That was him! Aw man, everybody was talking about that! Stupid jerk had WAY more rep than she did now… so wait—if that was it, the thievery they were all talking about, wasn't that the one where they caught them? They all got sent to Nalbina. Something about some pirates, a viera…

Holy crap.

"Hold UP!" Riley yelled suddenly, cutting into the ongoing conversation. She gaped in astonishment at Vaan. "You're _that_ one? From the rumor; the one everybody's all freaked out about?"

"Uh…" Vaan stuttered, caught pretty off-guard. "Y-yeah, but…which rumor? A lot went on at the palace, but it wasn't all just because we stole from them."

"Oh…" Riley chewed her lip, trying to sort it out. "I just heard there was commotion up there and at the end of the night they caught some pirates."

Vaan rubbed the back of his neck. "Well…Most of it was because of the attack. The insur—the resistance used the banquet as a distraction to launch an attack on the palace. It was really just some extremely rotten luck that I picked the same night to rob the place."

Riley heard most of what he said, but some of her attention was diverted to Dalan, who seemed to be looking her over quite intently. He was reading her or something. Or he was maybe just mad at her for interrupting.

"Interesting girl you have here, Vaan…" the geizer muttered in his funny accent. Vaan shrugged, without an answer—which left them all in an awkward moment of silence.

"So um…yeah, the pirates?" She tore her gaze from the old man's grim gaze and back to Vaan.

Vaan shrugged and shook his head. "More weird coincidence I guess. Balthier was after the same treasure I was after. I escaped with them from Nalbina…" Vaan trailed off, seeing the renewed astonishment on Riley's face. What had he said?

She clenched her fists in the air, staring down at the floor. "You're telling me. I ran away. _From dadgum pirates!" _It was more growling than actual speech. She couldn't believe it! There she was in the midst of two sky pirates, two amazing adventurous free-flying sky pirates, and she _left_ them! What was it with freakin irony around this town! …Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she could still find them again. In her wild state of mind, she completely forgot about secrecy. She had to find those two again. They were her only escape…

"Whoa…" Vaan muttered, staring in shock. A dull yellow light was slowly brightening in Riley's eyes, so faint that he could barely even see it. But it was real: glowing eyes, just like he'd suspected back in Migelo's place earlier that day.

"Oh? And what is this?" muttered an intrigued Dalan.

Vaan answered, but was unable to look away. "Oh…I-I haven't figured it out yet…" He lowered his voice here—though obviously Riley wasn't going to hear him. "I was hoping you could, actually. I-it's magic, right?"

Old Dalan raised an eyebrow at him, a widening smile putting about a million more wrinkles on his leathery face. He began to laugh, so energetically that Riley even looked his way. Vaan watched as the light in her eyes flickered out, then vanished altogether.

"M'boy…" Dalan chuckled. "All the great minds of Ivalice couldn't figure that one out!"

As Dalan burst into a new spurt of laughter, Vaan looked to Riley. She was staring at the old man with a strange mix of crestfallen, defensive terror. "Riley," he started, but lost his words when she turned her eyes to him. Suddenly she turned and ran out, Vaan calling after her. Behind him, Dalan's laughter was tapering off.

"Riley!" Vaan called, running after her. He got to the door just in time for it to slam in his face. He growled, more out of annoyance than pain, and yanked it open again.

Dalan's voice stopped him. "Oh—Vaan. Wait."

He turned around with an annoyed groan. "What?"

"About that errand…" Dalan pulled out a sword from behind his chair. Vaan huffed a sigh and jogged back to him, snatched the sword, then ran back to the door as Dalan was explaining what he was supposed to do.

At the door, Vaan paused just long enough to recognize the blade. "This…this is a sword of the Old Order," he marveled, glancing back up at the old man. Vaan finally nodded and slipped out the door, hoping Riley hadn't gotten too far by now.

Alone in his house once more, Dalan stared after the boy, all traces of humor gone. "And so it is done—but will it be enough to remind him…" Etc., etc.

….

"**Tell me what you want to hear—**

**Something that'll light those ears.**

**I'm sick of all the insincere.**

**I want to give all my secrets away."**

Vaan burst out into darkened Lowtown, already sprinting for the stairs back to Rabanastre. But as soon as he rounded the first corner, he skidded to a stop. A figure in an oversized jacket was standing in the middle of the alleyway, back to him as she hugged herself, head bowed. Vaan winced in discomfort. This was gonna be fun.

"Riley, that you?"

"…No."

Vaan ignored that, having no desire to play with words. He approached her gently from behind. "I uh…heh, I thought you'd run all the way to the Estersand or something."

Riley's shoulders rose in a shrug. It was annoying how she wouldn't turn around. Vaan grumbled a sigh and walked around her, forcing her to face him. But she kept her head down, hiding behind that floppy old hat of hers.

Vaan crossed his arms with a short sigh. "Riley. Please look at me?"

Riley reached up and pulled the brim of her hat further over her face, making Vaan bristle with anger. Now she was just being a childish jerk. "If I don't look at you, you can't see me."

Vaan's face screwed up with angry confusion. What the heck was she getting so weird about? She acted like she'd killed the consul. …Well actually that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Anyway, there was nothing for her keep overreacting about. "Listen. We live in a city where flying rabbits with pompom-antennas build giant airships and float them with stones. Glowing eyes aren't so weird."

Riley snorted a laugh. "Not the eyes I'm worried about," she muttered under her breath. She sighed, finally lifting her head enough to peer at him from under her hat. "You're not…gonna ask me. Are you?" she asked, voice full of wonder.

Vaan hesitated. He really did want to know how it happened…but he knew how much he hated it when people pried at him. Something told him she hated it just as much. "Well, not if you don't want to talk about it."

Riley's mouth opened immediately, but she stopped herself before any words could form. She struggled with thoughts, and for a terrifying moment, she even believed she might just tell him. But when she finally spoke, she was shocked and angry at what she ended up saying. "N-no."

Vaan spread his hands with a shrug. "See, that's alright. Can we go back to normal now and just deliver this thing for Dalan?" He held up the sword, which she only just then realized he was carrying. She nodded and so did he, turning to walk down the tiny street.

Riley stood still a few seconds before her feet finally moved to follow. "Hold up…I thought we were looking for Penelo. Dalan hadn't seen her?"

Vaan was still walking in front of her, so she didn't see his eyebrows raise up as he bit his lip. Riley was under the impression that information about Penelo was the only reason they had gone to Dalan in the first place. "Uhh, no…no he did not. But I told him to let me know if he heard anything, remember?"

"Mm. We went from search party to sword delivery."

Vaan shrugged. "We're still looking. We're just gonna drop this off on the way."

….

"**That part of me left yesterday.**

**The heart of me is strong today.**

**I'm blessed to say the old me's dead and gone away."**

She stuck close to Vaan as they entered the shady building, not so afraid of the actual place as the men who hung around there. The guards were less than friendly, but the two street rats got past alright when Vaan told them about Dalan. When they did enter, they paused for a moment, finding themselves on the fringes of a rather heated conversation. Riley was glad that they seemed too engaged to notice her or her companion.

It was easy to overhead what hey were saying. Riley stepped forward cautiously, interested now and not wanting to disturb the conversation. She may not be interested in or informed of affairs of politics, but there wasn't a single Dalmascan who wouldn't understand those men's words. They were talking about the traitor-captain. fon Ronsenburg.

Suddenly, a door opened to the side. A light-headed man with a strong build and a jagged scar running down his face had entered the room, silencing the occupants. For a moment, it seemed no one wanted—or dared—to say anything.

But then someone stepped forward, a man she'd not seen before. He wore tons of armor and gigantic sideburns. "Now there's the Basch that I remember."

Riley's eyes widened to the size of saucers. Speak of the blasted devil… How on Ivalice! That guy was dead as the king he killed! That's what the debate was about, then. Just like her, they were trying to find out if he was for real. She looked to Vaan incredulously, but for some reason or another, he was too busy glaring at the so-called Basch.

"Then will you fight again at my side?" The…captain asked. Despite her astonishment, Riley couldn't help but notice how noble and strong his voice naturally sounded.

Someone from the small crowd yelled angrily, "His word alone convinces me of nothing!"

"I'd take his word over that of a mouthpiece Marquis."

"Then you name Reks liar along with him."

"My brother was _no_ liar!"

Riley was injected with another jolt of shock when she realized it'd been Vaan who had suddenly entered the scene. He shoved himself past some of the other men—Riley quickly slipped in behind him. The tension in the air was palpable. She fully expected any of them to promptly serve them a one-way ticket out of here—departing straight from Beat-Down train station. She made a mental note to later smack Vaan across the back of his stupid empty head.

But, just when she thought the room would explode from the suspense, someone stepped in to take the unfriendly focus off of Vaan and onto himself. And it was the last person she'd expect to save them.

"Just the opposite." All eyes turned to the dead traitor captain, as Basch stepped forward and addressed them all. His voice was deep, not commanding, but drawing. His voice was security; it was comfort. "Reks was the witness they needed. They had to make it appear as if I'd killed the king—Reks bears no blame."

And then he turned to look at Vaan, nodding, with a deep and knowing look in his eye. "The fates have willed it."

Obviously she was missing something. Riley looked to Vaan, her face screwed up in confusion. But before he could answer, Mr. Sideburns decided to assert his presence.

"So, this is Rekks's brother." He suddenly yanked the sword out of his hands with a growl. Riley felt a sudden and vicious spark of anger. She scowled sharply, stepping forward, but the man was already turning back to yell at the blonde one. "Your words may convince a child such as this, but they weigh far too lightly on the scales for my taste. Our paths will remain separate."

Riley was confused at the protective anger she suddenly felt towards the dark-headed man. From what she'd gathered, he knew the captain from somewhere in their past—had fought alongside him. It was understandable, though, when she considered the betrayal…which apparently might not even have happened. But, if it had, the guy would obviously not be so willing to trust his captain friend again.

She looked up to consider the dark-headed soldier, catching the last of what he was saying. "…I must treat you as I would Ondore—as I would any abettor of the Empire."

Possibly-Basch took a step in his direction, eyes steeling sharply. "Then what will you do? Hold me here in chains?"

There was a moment of highest tension, the two former comrades staring each other down in a silent clash. But finally, the dark-haired one simply lifted the sword he still held and tossed it to Basch.

He caught it easily, eyes never leaving his opposite. "Some things never change…do they?"

"Listen to me Basch. Your cage may have no bars, but it is a cage. The eyes of the resistance watch unblinking."

Basch turned away, replying with words that made Riley grin in devilish approval. "Let them watch. I know something of cages."

And with that, he stalked out of the room. After a moment's hesitation, Vaan followed him. Riley darted after the two, eager to get the heck out of that place. So much drama… For once in her life—she realized with mild surprise—she'd been speechless through the entire thing.

….

Outside, it was a much lighter scene. Riley jogged out into the street, catching up with the others. "_Sheeewf!_" She sighed, casting a glance back at the building. "Heavy _stuff_…"

Vaan shook his head at her, sparing a second to roll his eyes. But he was thinking about more important things. "That's right…" he mumbled, apparently to Basch. "Amalia's in the resistance."

The captain—and boy did it feel crazy to call him that—replied, "Then you know her."

"Sort of. We met just before we got sent to Nalbina." Vaan snorted a laugh. "I've known nicer people."

Riley looked from one to the other, wondering once more what the heck they were talking about. It was getting a little annoying not knowing what was going on. Like she was left out. She sort of felt like she wasn't even there at all. So instead of trying to regain their attention—because she wasn't sure what to do with it—she instead used it as an opportunity. Behind both their backs, Riley bowed her head and closed her eyes.

Basch stared silently at the boy for a moment. Ever did he think of his lost brother—in the tunnels beneath Nalbina, just now…probably every other day of his life. The urge to reach out to him returned once more. The boy may hate him for the crimes he didn't commit, but Basch was not without remorse for his brother's death.

"Our paths keep crossing, yours and mine." He closed the distance between them, coming to his side. "It's more than coincidence."

"It's annoying."

Basch couldn't suppress a quiet laugh. With a small smile, he chuckled, "I'm sorry."

Behind them, Riley had opened her eyes. She stared at Basch in silent wonder, stepping towards him lightly. It was truth…there couldn't be any doubt now. He really was the captain. And this…His was not a hand to plunge a dagger into hearts of kings. His were hands of honor, hands of strength.

She couldn't see much, but she saw what mattered. He didn't kill the king.

But he bore the blame.

"Allow me one last annoyance: a favor to ask," he was saying to Vaan. "I want you to take me to Balthier. Even caged birds need wings."

"…_What!_"

Both males turned, startled at Riley's astonished shriek. She dashed up to Basch, eyes wide in eager disbelief. "You know Balthier? You…You know Balthier!"

Vaan stared at her in confusion, stuttering, "Well yeah—do you? …H-he was the pirate I told you about. Who helped us escape from Nalbina."

Riley's eyes snapped to him. Suddenly she squealed in delight, snatching him by his vest. "Take me with you!"

"O-okay! Fine, whatever! Let go of my shirt…"

Riley squealed again, clapping her hands together. "Thank you Vaan!" And she darted away, running along ahead of them. Vaan stared after her in wonder. Was this girl for real?

"I wonder if she knows where she's going," Basch's voice said from beside him.

Vaan looked his way, making sure that his glare let the man know he was not amused. But, for reasons he could never fathom, he felt like he should grant the favor. Because, much as he despised the idea, he was in a small measure of debt to Basch.

He sighed in frustration and asserted firmly, "This makes us even."

"Even?"

"For Nalbina." Vaan was already walking away, linking his hands behind his head. "We couldn't have done it without you."

Basch stared after the boy for a moment, daring to allow himself a small measure of satisfaction. He moved forward to follow after them.

"Umm Vaan?" Riley's voice called from somewhere up ahead. "So it's like…I dunno where I'm going."

….

"**There are many prodigal sons.****  
On our city streets they run,  
Searching for shelter.  
There are homes broken down.  
People's hopes. fallen to the ground  
From failures."**

Having regained her chance of a lifetime by a wondrous stroke of serendipity, she was already in a good mood, and it was enhanced tenfold when they emerged into the sunlit streets from out of Lowtown's sparse light. The topside was lazy today, with little traffic aside from a few casual people running errands. Riley liked it on days like this, because on days like this, the children came out.

She came onto the shopping plaza in front of the Sandsea, smiling at the sounds of children at play. A group of them was gathered—among them Johm, Brutus, and several others she knew and who knew her. Riley smiled. Ahead of her slowpoke companions, she had time to spare.

Sticking her hands in her pockets, Riley grinned and went over to them. Johm was first to see her, and his face brightened. "Riley!" He ran over to her, friends close behind.

With a wry grin, she replied, "Hey guys. How's that pirate training going?"

"It's a good thing you're here—we were just deciding who'd play the ransom!"

Riley groaned, stumbling forward as Johm yanked her by the hand. "You're gonna make me be the damsel a_gain_!"

As he and Vaan stepped out into the shopping plaza, several small children ran past, apparently on their own and with no adults in sight. Curious, Basch stopped to watch them as they ran to join a small group of other kids. He realized they were gathered around their strange companion. But they were so young—why were so many out alone on the streets?

Vaan glanced over his shoulder and noticed Basch had stopped. He followed his line of sight and understood his curiosity. "A lot of kids lost their parents in the war," he explained, watching the kids playing at their games. Several 'pirates' were pretending to try and kidnap Riley, while the unfortunate others were stuck pretending to be her imperial guards.

Basch glanced his way, but then just looked back at the kids, something like regret in his eyes. It was strange… When Vaan looked at the man now, he didn't see only a murderer. In fact, it was becoming difficult to put such a name to him. "Mine…mine had already died before that." Somehow he kept talking to the guy, stepping out onto tentative ground. "The plague took them both."

Basch cast down his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

His voice was sincere. 'Liar' now seemed an inappropriate label as well. "It's alright. It's been five years now," he went on. "After that, I lived with my friend Penelo and her family. Then…then the war came."

"…I am sorry."

Of course he was. Why did he have to be so…_good?_ He was supposed to be evil. He was supposed to be blamed. "You don't have to keep apologizing. Really, it's alright." Vaan sighed, mostly at himself, trying to hold on to the image he'd held of a traitorous murderer…but Basch's face did not fit that man.

His next words were ones Vaan never thought he'd ever say, not in a thousand years. But…they were true. And Basch deserved to hear them. "I know it wasn't your fault…I see that now."

"…You didn't kill my brother."

Basch was astounded. Vaan had hated him, perhaps as much as all of Dalmasca. Hatred toward him, toward the Empire, toward the loss and grief of his brother. Basch never thought one so full of hatred would ever stop to see the truth. It was a great burden lifted from his shoulders. And he suspected Vaan was freed of an equal weight.

He followed Vaan's gaze to a red pennant strung above the street— on of the Empire's many oppressive advertisements. "It was the Empire."

"My brother trusted you," Vaan said, calling Basch's attention. He met his eyes, emphasizing his next words. "And he was right."

Vaan turned away.

Riley watched the encounter from the corner of her eye. Despite the distance and the noise of the children, she'd heard the entire conversation. Super ears, you know. They had advantages. She looked up from her spot on the ground (where she had been tied up with imaginary ropes), smiling at Basch's turned back. She stood up, apologizing to the kids as she slipped away. "Sorry guys—my friends are leaving. Pirates win. Nice jobs."

She came up behind Basch, standing on her toes in order to tap the tall man on his shoulder. He turned around to face her curiously.

"You did a good job. He doesn't like the Empire at all."

"You know him well, then?"

Riley shrugged. "We only just met yesterday. But we've been hanging around each other looking for that Penelo chick. We talked a lot. It's not hard to see he hates soldiers."

Basch nodded his agreement. They both started walking again as they talked, following Vaan towards the Sandsea. "Many do. It's not difficult to understand."

Riley snorted a laugh. "You got that right. But…but you're not part of that." She looked up at him, trying to find the right words—words for a man so noble who had lost everything for crimes that were forced upon him. And who still remained true. Riley looked down, coming up with nothing better than: "I could never imagine hands like yours in the act of murder."

Turning ahead once more, Basch closed his eyes briefly, a smile gracing his face. "What is your name?" he asked, glancing at her sidelong.

Riley grinned, delighted to see that he was, at least for the moment, happy and at peace. "Riley," she answered with a delighted laugh. "Glad we met, Captain."

….

The first thing her ears picked out was the voice she'd thought to never hear again—the voice of gold. "As I said: a misunderstanding." Riley squealed in delight, spotting the pirate on the balcony in the back of the bar. He was sitting with Fran at their same table. She took off running—but straight towards the railed platform instead of the stairs.

"What I am understanding is they took Penelo because of you!" Migelo was with them. That was weird.

As Vaan and Basch went for the stairs—the easy way—Riley instead took a running start at the balcony. Feet before she hit the wall, she instead threw herself into a jump. Her legs bent until they were high enough that her feet caught the ledge, at the exact same time as her hands caught the top of the railing.

She was now perched on the balcony right beside the pirates' table. "Hi!" she announced loudly, beaming at the startled expressions of all.

"What—_you_?" Balthier accused, gaping incredulously. She'd startled him an all.

"That's called a catleap," she explained to him, pretending not to notice his surprise. "It's a freerunning move. That's how come I can get away so easy when I need to."

Surprise quickly turning to anger at being so surprised (scared), he replied coldly, "Yes…I believe I'm quite well acquainted with your skills in the art of escape."

Riley winced, glancing down. "Oh yeah…I'm sorry. I just—"

"Wait!" Vaan's angry voice cut her off. Riley seemed to notice for the first time that she'd interrupted something. Vaan turned to the old bangaa, demanding, "What about Penelo?"

"Ah, Vaan," Migelo sighed in a hoarse, grumbly way. "I didn't want to worry you; no telling what you'd go off and do... Nothing for it now, though—and maybe you can help. They've taken Penelo!"

Vaan's face was shocked and worried. Riley's grin had faded completely. She'd known this…somewhat. And she felt bad for it now. She scooted over to a clear spot and vaulted herself over the rail with another move taken from freerunning: the reversal. Silently, she moved behind Basch to hide and let them keep up the conversation.

"And there was a note—a note for this Balthier! 'Come to the Bhujerba mines,' it said."

Riley just couldn't keep quiet at that one. "Hold up!" she protested hotly, causing all eyes to turn her way. "No way it's his fault. It was that hunter…B-Be'Gannim. Or somethin…"

The awkward, somewhat stunned silence that ensued was broken by Fran. "It's Ba'Gamnan. He was in Nalbina."

"Yeah…" Riley murmured, backing further behind Basch. He glanced down at her, clearly wondering how she knew that. Well—she did know the pirates, and they obviously knew.

Migelo had returned to his rant, and Riley found that she was getting to like him less as he went on yelling at Balthier. "If anything should happen to that sweet girl—why I've her parents' memory to consider! You're going to go to her aid and that's _that_! It's what you sky pirates do, isn't it?"

Balthier's golden voice took on a dangerous edge. "I don't respond well to orders."

For a moment, there was a suspended silence. To everyone else, it looked dangerous. Well…almost everyone. Riley was biting her lip in attempts not to squee. She glanced to Vaan, who was staring at the pirate with something like admiration in his eyes. Riley smiled privately to herself. A fatherless orphan who dreamed of freedom and flight? She was getting a pretty good idea how Vaan thought of the adventurous sky pirate.

But at Balthier's next words, the look in Vaan's eyes suddenly faded into something more like anger. She realized the anger had been there all along—and now it seemed obvious. The guy was nearly refusing to save Vaan's friend.

"You do know that the Imperial fleet is massing at Bhujerba?"

Vaan was fed up by now. For a moment he'd seen again in the pirate what he'd seen in the ring at Nalbina—boldness and independence. But now he'd gone right back to arrogant, selfish, and just plain _lazy_. "Fine then—I'll go!" he snapped. Balthier turned his icy eyes toward him, but Vaan would not be stopped. "You at least have an airship don't you? Just get me there and I'll find Penelo myself."

Riley suddenly found herself alone, as her human shield stepped forward and added, "I'll join you."

"H-huh?" Vaan muttered, turning to Basch.

"I have some business there as well."

Behind him, Riley looked from Basch to Balthier and back again. They were completely opposite each other on the moral scale. Yet, from what she'd gathered, they had fought alongside each other to get out of Nalbina.

"An audience with the Marquis, by chance?" Balthier asked, mouth turning up in a smile. Basch returned it, so confirming Riley's thoughts. They were friends, alright. Maybe Basch could fix him…teach him something of honor. But…not too much. It wouldn't do to take away his piratey spirit.

Vaan huffed a sigh, bored with all this talking in circles. He just needed a way to convince him…but then, he suddenly had an idea. Balthier was a sky pirate, right? Pirates like bribes.

"Balthier!" He took the glowing lump of stone out of his pocket and held it up. "Just take us and—and this is yours."

"The gods are toying with us…" Fran groaned, leaning her head on her hand. Her partner seemed to agree with the sentiment.

"Augh…" he stood up, huffing that little annoyed sigh-sound he made. To Riley's sudden fear and horror, he began to walk away, Fran following.

"Make yourselves ready—we leave soon."

"…Right!" Vaan jogged after him, only focused on his triumph. He'd won that one—and more importantly, now he had a way to Penelo.

Basch followed as well, having some things to attend to before they left.

And Riley stood alone, gazing after them with worried eyes, holding her fists to her panicked heart. "Yeah, but…who's 'we'?"

* * *

**A/N:** Shewf! This one was long. But I had fun novelizing the cutscenes. ^-^ Please R&R! Oh—also: Who got the Adventure Time reference? XD I love that show.

*Lyric headings: "I'm Like a Bird" by Nelly Furtado, "Iris" by The GooGoo Dolls, "Secrets" by OneRepublic, "Dead and Gone" By T.I., and "Tears of the Saints" by Leeland


	3. Peace and Denial

"Vaan—a word."

He stopped mid-stride, turning back at Balthier's voice. What'd he want now? He told them to make themselves ready—and Vaan had some readying to get done. He wanted as little delay as possible here. Reluctantly, Vaan jogged back the pirate, who was standing aside, away from the others as they walked off to their respective errands. "What?"

"Is that young lady a friend of yours?" Balthier asked, hooking his thumbs in his belt out of habit.

"Oh, yeah…I forgot I was going to ask you about her." In all the worry over Penelo, Riley's weirdness had taken the back burner. He didn't know where this conversation was going, If anywhere, but oh well—he'd go along. "She knew you somehow, didn't she?"

"Unfortunately," Balthier grumbled, the corner of his mouth turning up with distaste. He shook his head and glanced at him sidelong, as if turning something over in his mind. "Would you be willing to do something for me?"

Vaan eyed him warily. The sky pirate needed something. How ironic. "What is it?"

"Find her; talk to her. Convince her to come along."

Vaan's suspicion turned to confusion. Now that didn't make any sense. "If she's so annoying, why do you want her around?"

"She knows far too much for my comfort." Balthier met his eyes for emphasis. "Sky pirates value their secrecy, Vaan."

After a pause, Vaan nodded, stowing that bit of information away in his mind. He understood that, but he wasn't sure how he felt about bringing her in for observation. 'She knows too much'? It sounded like a mafia leader hiring a hitman.

"Besides," Balthier drawled, continuing. "I'm sure by now you've realized how peculiar she behaves."

Now that, he couldn't deny. "Well, yeah…" He debated his next words—but what harm could it do really? "Have you seen her eyes? They…glow."

Balthier cocked an eyebrow, more than a little interested. "Now that I haven't seen. The fangs had my attention." He huffed a sigh. More and more drama each day. Maybe the gods were toying with them. Finally, he shook his head and looked back to Vaan expectantly. "We're in agreement, then?"

He thought it over for a minute. He didn't like lying to her—but, actually, he doubted Riley would hesitate to do the same to him, if it was in her interests. And really, what harm could it do? She might even be able to help. She seemed to be able to know things before she was told—and that would be a handy ability if they ran into trouble. If nothing else, she could lead them to Penelo.

"Alright," he answered resignedly. "Just don't do anything…shady." He had no idea what he meant by that, but…Balthier and trust were not two compatible things. Vaan didn't like his motives, and his words implied that Riley was…expendable. Vaan worried about labels like that placed on his friends. Even if they were more like just 'acquaintances.'

Balthier's lips turned up in a smirk, as he lazily shifted his weight to his other foot in a casual kind of movement. "Never," the pirate assured, in that weird tone of voice he used where you couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Vaan huffed a sigh, wondering if maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. But it wasn't that big a deal. Balthier may be frigid at times, but surely he wouldn't try anything evil towards the girl. Basch would stop him, anyway, if he did. With a nod, Vaan jogged off again. He wanted to pick a few things up in the way of armor before he went to get Riley.

….

"**Set me off on the morning breeze so **

**Far away from here.**

**Save me**

**From this world,**

**Take me.**

**What if we all die young?"**

The sky was beautiful. You could see it clearly, if you knew the right places to look from. Riley knew every right place for everything in this city. She'd found herself a nice little niche, secluded enough but still with a wide view of the sky. She lay back on the roof the Sandsea. Freerunning could easily get you there.

Usually she came up here for peace. It eluded her now. No matter how clear the sky, or how prettily the white clouds floated around up there, she couldn't distract herself. She'd met a viera and ruined any chances of talking to her. She'd made an enemy of a sky pirate. (Well. Sort of an enemy.) She'd made a friend of his associate, who had found out her enemy-ship with said sky pirate and now would never like her again. It was one heck of a mixed-up situation. A very knotted ball of yarn.

And when it unraveled, the strings surrounding her would all be yanked away, right up into the sky. But none were attached to her. So she'd be left stranded on the ground, alone in this place while the others all flew away to new and exciting worlds. Better worlds. Without gutters and cockroaches. Worlds where you were provided for all the time because your friends made sure of it, because they cared if you were well off.

Riley sat up with a growling sigh. Why couldn't she be like Vaan? That boy was just like any ordinary orphan, save a headstrong attitude and countless dreams of piracy. His background had no excitement other than his brother was in the war. Lots of people's family died in the war. Her past was so much more…more! Yet _he'd_ managed to get himself all wrapped up in an exciting adventure with these exotic characters and all the luck. If it was to be anyone, shouldn't it be someone special? Someone freakishly different? Freakish was her thing. Come on, she'd been born in dadgumed Draklor.

But apparently, being abnormal doesn't necessarily mean you're special. That's what the world says.

Riley drew her legs to her chest and hugged them, resting her chin on her knees, staring up at the sky like some huge cliché. Poor beaten little orphan girl who gazes up at the sky and _dreams_. Riley scowled. She hated cliché. She didn't come up here to dream, just to freakin relax. That's all she wanted, for light's sake—to be left alone in peace. Nevermind that she was in denial.

Hey…hey! There it was! That's what she couldn't read in him. Peace and denial… Balthier wanted everyone to leave him alone to his freedom and his peace. But deeper inside, he was getting bored. He had partnership with Fran—and maybe something deeper—but now he'd gotten a taste of friendship, of camaraderie with that Basch guy. Right? Basch was a good man. Balthier had seen good things in him and begun to wonder.

She hoped. He _must_ have deeper reasons. His personality revolved around his piracy and self-interest, around his own arrogant confidence, but that couldn't be all there was to him. Please, Dalmascan lights, let there be more to him…

"Hey Riley!" A voice called from below. "Is that you up there?"

"**If you want to, I can save you.**

**I can take you away from here.**

**So lonely inside, so busy out there,**

**And all you wanted was somebody who cared."**

Riley looked up with a start. She crawled to the side of the roof and looked over the edge, jaw dropping. The blonde stared up at her from the street, shielding his eyes with one hand. "Vaan?"

"Yeah…chick how'd you get on the roof?"

Riley rolled her eyes, laying flat with her chin propped on her hand. "I flew. What're you doin here?" She tried—but not really too hard—to keep the bitterness from creeping into her next words. "Didn't Balthier say soon?"

Vaan laughed at the sarcasm, and Riley couldn't keep from smiling in return. "I came to get you," he called.

Riley's smile vanished. Did he mean…_Seriously?_ "To…get me?"

He nodded, apparently missing her apprehension. "Yeah, hurry. Balthier's getting all impatient. He wants to leave soon."

Riley could only gape in complete shock. "You're…you're taking me with you?"

"Well yeah, if you'd get down from there." Vaan finally seemed to be catching on to her weird attitude. "Why, don't you want to?"

"No!—I mean yes, yes I want to but…Gah, hangon." Riley hooked her hands on the ledge and twisted around, swinging herself over. She pulled up for a split second to slow her momentum, then dropped down the seven or so feet, landing easily. She stood and jogged over to where Vaan was staring in surprise.

"Okay, lemme understand," she mumbled. "You're _taking_ me…_with_ you?"

"Yeah…" Vaan shook his head with a shrug. "How is this so hard for you to get?"

Riley ground her teeth, trying to come up with an answer. She didn't like that question. "Because…gah, I dunno! Something tells me your pirate friends don't exactly love having me around." She stuck her hands in her pockets, looking anywhere but his face.

Vaan stared at her eyes, trying to get her to look at him. He glared when she pointedly turned her head down. "Listen, Riley… You can't take Balthier seriously half the time. And you can't take it personally because he hardly ever wants _anyone_ around."

She nodded, but didn't look at him. She obviously was too absorbed in herself to grace him with her full attention. "_You_ know him pretty well."

…What? Where was this random anger coming from all of a sudden? Vaan shook his head helplessly. Every time he talked to this weirdo she got him confused out of his head. "Riley…What's your problem?"

She did look at him now, eyes suddenly shooting vicious daggers. "There is no problem! I'm an antisocial street rat exiled stuck forever in the gutter while everyone else flies away on chance's wings…What could be better!"

He didn't know what she meant about chance's wings, but the rest of it was clear. She was one of the many homeless children who had given up on people. It was so stupid, to push everyone away just because others did wrong. If there was one thing you always should hang on to, it had to be hope. Riley had thrown it out the window. It disgusted him.

"Alright," Vaan snapped, finally causing her to look up and glare at him dangerously. He didn't care—if anything, it made him madder. "Maybe you've got a suckish life, and maybe you don't like trusting people. Take a number. Everyone around here has it hard. I'm an orphan, too, you know. It doesn't give you the right to hate everybody before you even know them, when they're only trying to—"

"I'm not an orphan," Riley interrupted. Her stare was dark and profoundly accusing, as if he could never know what lie behind those amber orbs.

Vaan stopped mid-rant, anger diluted by confusion. "Well—_homeless_ then. Whatever you like." He rolled his eyes. This conversation was going absolutely nowhere. "Look, you obviously don't want anything to do with people, or me, so..." He tossed up his hands in a shrug, turning to walk away. "Have fun with your life."

"…Vaan."

He kept walking in silence, shoving his hands in his pockets, and didn't answer. He was done. If she wanted to spend the rest of her life with her self-conceived conclusions about everyone, let her have tons of fun with it. And as for Balthier…he could do his own dirty work. He could come and find Riley his ownself if she was so important.

"Vaan!"

He heard running footsteps from behind. Finally he turned around to see her suddenly right behind him. A measure of guilt crept past his anger; there were tears running down her face. Vaan winced, only half out of annoyance. "Oh come on Riley, don't—"

"I gotta come. I—I gotta help find Penelo."

"…Penelo?"

"Yeah I…'member I promised." Her voice was trembling, but she was ignoring it. She chewed on her lip, staring at him in desperate hope. Vaan could tell she was sorry—this was her way of saying so.

He finally sighed, looking down and away. Riley was jolted by fear, terrified that he might say no. But then, without looking back at her, he held out his hand. "Come on," he mumbled, reluctant but resigned.

Riley was so elated she thought she would pass out from it. She grabbed up his hand like it was worth a million gil. She knew it was stupid, and childish, but…heck, she nearly _was_ a child. Fifteen was still a child, right? But even with her relief, she still felt that something wasn't finished. Something left unsaid. And that would obviously be a problem for the future—she'd better say something to fix it now, while it wasn't impossible to fix.

"Vaan?"

"Yeah."

"…I never had friends afore. I don't know what to do with 'em."

Vaan didn't answer for a moment. But a smile slowly spread over his face. With a quiet laugh, he answered, "We'll work on that."

….

"**Silver moons and paper dreams,**

**Faded maps and shiny things.**

**You're my favorite one-man show.**

**A million different ways to go.**

**In my mind I've been set free.**

**Will you fly me away?**

**Take me away with you."**

She hid behind Vaan mostly, as they both entered the aerodrome. Riley had never been in the aerodrome, except years ago when she came here. She'd never needed to afterwards. No money or desire to go anywhere else. It wasn't much to see, but it was exciting nevertheless. At least, the meaning behind it was. Meaning: they were leaving soon. They were flying away to strange new worlds and this was the very first stop.

She saw Balthier ahead, which didn't inspire in her feelings of joy like it had before. Because she could see clearly now, and what she saw was the uncertain part of her wild plan. What if she _couldn't_ convince him to take her along? But Vaan had brought her, and Balthier needed Vaan, so maybe it was enough.

"Welcome back," the pirate drawled, offering a little half-smile that she didn't know was real or not. He'd mostly been addressing her, and somehow she didn't like that.

"Yeah hi." Riley found it hard to meet his eyes.

Balthier said no more to her; he looked to Vaan and asked, "You are ready, then?"

Vaan nodded, so did Balthier, and then he turned to lead them away. That was it. No questions, no challenges, nothin. …That was easy. She grinned wryly and followed along. Now she glanced around with the excited eyes of a child tourist as Balthier led them deeper into the building.

They stopped before a giant pair of double-doors, where waited Fran and Basch. Riley's face showed relief as she scurried at once to the captain's side, half-hiding behind his broad frame. She ignored the confused glance Vaan threw her way. It was her life-changing coincidental journey and she could be scared if she wanted to.

Balthier glanced slyly over his shoulder as he stepped up to a panel on the wall. With a flourish, he produced a small keycard and slid it down a slot in the panel, a light turned green, something beeped positively, and the giant doors slid open with a whoosh. Riley's nervousness fled.

Balthier's private hangar was graced with the most exotic, impressive airship she'd ever seen. And intricate. The complicated design was hard for her to even sort out—were those the wings there? Riley had seen very few airships, and though she didn't know much, she knew this one was unique. Obviously, so did Balthier. He stepped out in front of them all, hooking his thumbs in his belt, and announced, "This is the _Strahl_."

A grin broke on Riley's face. "_Yeah_ it is!"

Balthier's mouth twitched upward smugly at that, but his next words were for Vaan. "She airship enough for you?"

Vaan laughed and shoved past him—Riley caught the pirate's annoyed scowl, but he seemed to let it go quickly. He was being admired, after all. Or at least, his pride and joy was being admired. He stalked forward casually as Vaan glanced about, taking in the spectacle of the ship. "The _Strahl_…" It…_she_ was amazing. She was a real, flying airship. Real. The very symbol of freedom.

Vaan looked back to Balthier, too elated to remember to hide his admiration. "You really are a sky pirate!"

"Well, the headhunters seem to think so." The others followed as Balthier strode ahead, and Riley broke off from hiding behind Basch, instead standing beside Vaan. Grinning, he tapped the back of his hand on her arm. She nodded and agreed with a wry grin. Several moogles appeared from the door of the airship, hopping down the steps. Balthier addressed them. "What's the good word? Is she ready?"

With a moogle-y squeak Riley found adorable, the lead one held up a wrench and smiled. Balthier waved to them as they passed, which for whatever reason Riley smiled at. She stopped and kinda zoned out then, looking at each of her adult companions in turn as they boarded the magnificent ship. Just looking. Thinking. Somewhere in the background, Vaan rambled off a series of excited questions about the ship.

At the stop of the stairs, Balthier stopped with his back turned and placed his hands on his hips. "I suppose I could tell you, but…" He turned around, winking, waving an arm to motion them forward. "Wouldn't you rather see for yourself?"

Riley bit her knuckles in an attempt not to squee.

But her delight was fast to fade. Okay…she needed Basch again. Where was her human shield? …Crap. He was already on board.

For a minute, Vaan just stared with a growing smile of wonder. "Yeah," he nearly whispered, laughing quietly. He snatched Riley's arm and pulled her along, thinking she was hesitating for the same reasons he was—elation and awe. But, staggering forward, Riley suddenly caught herself, going rigid and refusing to move.

"H-hey—" Vaan looked back at her, tugging again on her arm. It was like trying to move a statue. She wasn't pulling back, just—not moving. Staring at the door to the _Strahl_, her eyes wide and unblinking. "Riley?"

"Uh-um…" She turned to him, stuttering for words. He was surprised and worried at how scared she was. Her voice was quiet and uncertain. "I…H-how do you know it's…better?"

Vaan's brow furrowed the slightest bit—but he thought he understood. She'd probably never known anything outside Rabanastre. Where he was excited, Riley was frightened.

So he smiled and shrugged, answering casually, "Duh—I _don't_. Nobody ever does." He held out his hand, since that worked last time; she seemed to like friendly touch. "Come on."

The seconds of hesitation felt like an eternity. She knew what he life was here. She knew how she'd longed to escape—and she was pretty sure she knew exactly _what_ she wanted to escape. She did not know, however, what she would escape to. But, looking at Vaan's outstretched hand, his warm smile and friendly eyes, she knew…she'd be okay. For the first time in years, Riley was experiencing something she would later come to know as trust.

Her gloved fingers slid into his, and he yanked her along towards that flying symbol of freedom—to her role in a play with no script, where the leading man stood smiling at the doorway. And she was excited for it.

….

"**Because I don't think that they'd understand."**

It was a day-long trip, time enough for exploring. As soon as Balthier and Fran said it was alright for them to walk around, Vaan was off. Riley ran around the ship with him, exploring every nook and crevice—except the engine room. They weren't allowed, apparently, without either of the pirates there. Riley figured that made sense, but it got under Vaan's skin, she could tell.

About halfway through, when she and Vaan were hanging around by some giant windows, Riley was surprised—happily—when Fran came up to them. Riley brightened, bounding up to her. "Hi!"

Fran only nodded. Riley would've been disheartened, but then the viera started to speak, and then she was too distracted by the beautiful accent. "We have guest quarters which have been seldom used. If you desire, you can rest there." She mostly addressed Riley then, speaking with blunt honesty that Riley, of course, failed to take offence at. "If you wish, there is a bath already run for you."

Instead of being offended, Riley's eyes widened in delight. A bath. Hot running water. How long ago had she been able to indulge in one of those? She nodded mutely; Fran turned and led her to the living quarters. Fran tapped a button on the wall, opening the door beside it, and stepped aside.

Riley's mouth hung open as she stepped into the room, staring with giant eyes. The room itself was huge, and so was every piece of furniture. There was a bed the size of three couches, made up with exotic fabrics she ached to touch. Everything was done up in colors of gold and red and brown. Balthier must have lavishly rich taste. If this was his guest room, she could hardly imagine what his own quarters were like.

"An hour before we arrive, I'll let you know to prepare." Riley heard Fran's voice somewhere in the background. "You should have at least six more hours until we reach Bhujerba." The doors slid closed with a quiet swish.

Alone, Riley stared at the door for a few seconds, before allowing a wry grin to spread over her face. She ripped off her gloves and tossed them to the ground, her hat following. She took a flying leap at the bed and sank at least three feet into the mounds of pillows and blankets. She ran her fingers through the tangled mess of bedclothes, closing her eyes, beaming radiantly.

Silk. The sheets were silk. She'd seen a scrap of silk once... It was beautiful. Held a lot of static, though. Suddenly, she bit her lip, drawing back her hand. One of her claws had poked a hole. Silk was apparently easily torn. Oh well. The pirates probably never even came in here—they wouldn't notice one tiny hole in sheets they never used.

She flopped over onto her back and rolled onto the ground, landing on all fours—not hands and knees, but crouched like an animal, palms and feet flat on the ground. She shot forward easily and was on her feet in a second, running towards the bathroom as if the Holy Grail was inside. A bath. Oh, sweet Dalmascan lights…

"Hey, Riley!" A voice yelled from outside, freezing her in her tracks. Panic seized her like a tightening cord around her chest. Eyes wide, she glanced back at the door, then to her hat—which lay all the way across the room. There was nothing in arm's reach that she could use instead.

She shot across the room with a speed fueled by terror. And though she moved impossibly fast, she could never hope to beat the opening of an automatic door.

Running into the room, Vaan suddenly stopped in his tracks. His excited grin faded. Amazement took its place, his jaw dropping mutely. His eyes locked on the top of her head. Reflexively, Riley slapped her hands over her ears—which hurt them considerably. But, by the look on Vaan's face, she knew. It was useless. She'd been seen. Riley's hands fell helplessly to her sides.

"Well, now," a familiar voice drawled, quieted slightly with surprise. Tears rolling hotly, she scowled and turned away, her exposed ears falling flat against her head, as Balthier stepped into the room. Riley closed her eyes, hugging her own elbows. She couldn't even bring herself to tell him to shut up.

Before he could say anything more, Riley suddenly looked up with a feral snarl, bearing her teeth and claws ferociously. Tears now flowed from vicious, dark eyes, holding no trace of the innocence, or happiness, or even fear that had been there before.

She made a wild dash for the door, shoving aside both males with a strength that didn't seem to match her scrawny arms. Vaan actually fell to the ground, catching himself on one knee, but the wall of the doorway was there for Balthier; he was thrown against it, annoyed and surprised at how much it hurt.

By the time they'd recovered, Riley had run the full length of the hallway and disappeared. Riley was running again, but hat and gloves lay abandoned where they'd fallen, and Riley was running alone.

* * *

**A/N:** Took me long Thanks to those who've reviewed, and thanks to Kibasgirltsumi for the making me interested in this chapter again. =]

**Lyric headings:** "Worth Dying For" by Rise Against, "All You Wanted" by Michelle Branch, "Fly Me Away" by Annie Little, and that last one is one line from "Iris" by The Goo Goo Dolls.


	4. To Each His Own Motives

"**Cause I'm a hazard to myself.**

**Don't let me get me. I'm my own worst enemy.**

**It's bad when you annoy yourself. So irritating.**

**Don't wanna be my friend no more;**

**I want to be somebody else."**

"Riley... Riley!"

The shouts continued throughout the ship, echoing down empty metal halls, without answer. Mostly it was Vaan's voice, or Basch. Once she'd heard Balthier. But he wasn't one to raise his voice often. Even when he'd called, it hadn't been loud, and sounded more annoyed than anything.

Hidden where she was, they probably wouldn't find her. Maybe. Hopefully?…not? In any case, here Riley sat among the organized chaos of the cargo bay, wedged between a crate of foodstuffs and a large unmarked box of probably airship parts. The lights were out to further the whole hiding thing. The dark was an old friend. Her only. She didn't move other than to stroke the ratty lock of her hair she'd been fiddling around with. Legs drawn up to her chest, she was only concerned with taking up as little space as possible.

One rule. She'd had one rule in a reckless life of otherwise moronic choices and ill-thought decisions. One smart rule. No getting caught.

It was all destroyed. Her last oath, her tie to her mother—severed. It was a promise she'd also made to her brother. To stay safe. It was broken… She had no loyalty anymore. No worth.

Better that she'd stayed in Rabanastre. For someone like her, life in hiding was a prison. A cage that was just as inescapable as her first home. More so; she'd gotten out of Draklor. But heritage and being were still with her. Heritage is your shadow, and always there was light: exposing you, following you, shone from somewhere far above by bulbs that never blew. Nowhere to hide from that. Not even in the dark. She could never be allowed to sit alone in the dark.

She heard the distant sound of huge doors whooshing open. There was a small beep, and the lights suddenly turned on. Riley barely stopped herself from crying out in dismay. She reached out, clawing at the air as if she could hold on to some precious scrap of darkness.

A disgruntled exhale—not quite a sigh—was familiar to her ears. "Are you in here, then?"

Riley's fingers curled into a tight ball. Her bleary eyes narrowed into bitter slits. She drew her arms close around her knees and hung her head in silence.

The footsteps drew nearer, sending off alarm bells in her head, but she ignored her instincts. Not until he was right behind her hiding spot did she glance up. By then, it was too late to try and re-hide herself; he would see her if she moved at all. She made a split-second decision to run.

But as soon as she stood, she stopped short, staring up at a solid pair of hazel eyes. His eyes were leather brown and gold, like the rest of him. He sat down on a supply crate and didn't say a word.

Riley backed away until she was pressed against the boxes behind her, sinking back to the ground. Her hiding place had become her trap. If only it were dark… then she could run, or at least he couldn't _look_ at her like that. Riley crouched in her cave of crates and scowled, waiting out the unbearable silence. It couldn't last forever.

Finally, he held up a hand. She hadn't noticed before that he was holding her hat—and both gloves. Riley's scowl vanished. Her eyes flicked back and forth from the hat to his stony face. She reached out to snatch at his hand.

"Ah, ah." Balthier jerked it away, making Riley's snarl return with a vengeance. New tears collected in her eyes.

"_Give it_," she growled, voice taking on a harshly violent pitch.

His eyes narrowed again; fury cut across his face. Surprised, Riley actually withdrew, pulling back her hand. From Balthier's face, the dark shadow lifted, but the hard edge was still there. She was only glad to have the rage gone. It was the most frightening expression she'd ever seen on a face—an undertone reminiscent of a dark shadow she once had lived under.

In response to the submission, Balthier tossed her a glove.

…So that's how it would work.

Riley's seething eyes didn't leave his as she picked up the glove, yanking it onto her hand. She hated him. She hated him more than she'd hated any man, woman, child, or animal. He was training her like a mutt. And she was falling for it. Riley refused to take responsibility—the hate fell to him. He must have known that, didn't he?

Balthier held up the other glove. "This one's worth one answer." Riley didn't say anything, so he went on. "How does your ability work?"

The last thing Riley wanted to do was speak to him. She could always try to maul him and take her stuff back. But—and this was the worst thought she'd been forced to acknowledge—she didn't think she could win.

"Like viera," she muttered blackly.

Balthier could hardly hear her. "…Can you be clearer?" he prodded, trying his best to keep the impatience out of his voice.

Riley's breath shook hotly and she ground her teeth. "I hear man-made structure like viera hear the wood. Mist gives me strength and speed."

Balthier tossed the glove to the ground at her feet. She snatched it up and yanked it onto her hand. Balthier then held up the hat—Riley stared at it with bitter need. "This one," he muttered quietly, "is worth everything. Your story. All of it."

If eyes held power, Riley's stare would've burned him to cinders. But he held up her hat, hanging by one finger, and after several minutes she figured she had nothing more to lose. She wanted that stupid hat, anyway. "I can give it to you in less than ten words. Draklor. Breeding program. Escape. Rabanastre. Cargo bay."

Balthier hid his annoyance. But she could tell it was a half-made attempt. That's all the guy ever was, was annoyed. Didn't he have anything that made him happy? "Dear, there are many things I can do, but mind-reading is not among them. You'll have to elaborate."

Riley knew she wasn't going to get by with half-made attempts, even though those were all _he_ ever offered. Whatever. It was pointless not to tell him now; he already knew the big important part, so what honor or secrecy was there left for her to protect? So she told him, starting with the farms. Solidor wanted soldiers with the resilience and strength of humes and the cool-headed decisiveness and powers of viera. They were kept like livestock and it sucked so she escaped. Ma had her promise not to tell. Found a place in Rabanastre. Etcetera, etcetera.

A long, silent moment passed. Finally, her worn old hat floated to the ground. Balthier watched stonily as she replaced it back where it belonged. It fit crooked on her head and now he knew why. Balthier stood. Gazing at the floor, Riley only heard him softly stepping closer, his shadow appearing first, until she was looking at his boots. Riley didn't look up, though she knew she was supposed to.

"Riley," came the voice of gold, commanding quietly. She looked up. His hand was extended again, kindness returned to his eyes. But it wasn't that sappy kind of "poor child" crap; it was sort of…cold kindness. And he wasn't gonna say anything about it either. But…it was his fault she needed to be helped up in the first place. He, among others like him.

Glaring hotly, Riley reached for his hand. She wished she could dig her claws into it. He pulled her up and, placing a hand on her back, guided her out of the cargo bay, turning out the lights behind them. Riley looked back at the blissful darkness and solitude before the doors slid closed once more.

* * *

"Riley!" Vaan shouted again, his voice lost to the empty hall. He huffed a sigh, grinding his teeth. This was so stupid. Here she'd gone again, being frustrating and…stupid. She'd be bright and friendly for a while, then something would happen and then she'd transform into the street rat again, who didn't care about anyone but herself or anything but running away. Riley had a lot to learn if she wanted to keep up this whole sociable thing. Penelo would never do anything like this, even if she was a mutant.

Vaan still couldn't believe it. The only explanation he could think of was that she was half-human and half something else. Most likely viera, because with moogles…yeah, that couldn't be possible. Anyway. That had to be it. So, if that was the explanation, why was she freaking out so badly?

"Riley!" he called again, to no answer. Vaan gritted his teeth and growled. "This is ridiculous," he ranted, turning around to face Basch, who returned with a questioning stare.

"She's making a huge deal out of nothing. She likes to think her life's some huge dramatic thing…I dunno." Vaan broke off with a sigh. "It's not even that big of a deal."

"To anyone else, perhaps not," Basch answered calmly.

That seemed to dilute Vaan's anger. "…Huh?"

"Whether for fear or shame, her reasons for running would seem to be enough for her. She doesn't know of anything else to do…and running is very easy."

Trying to discern what he meant, Vaan didn't reply. Basch stared off into the empty hallway with a look in his eyes Vaan couldn't fully understand. It was clear though, that the captain knew all too well what he was talking about.

Then, Basch pointed to something down the hall. Vaan looked to see the confident pirate striding towards them. "Balthier!" Vaan ran forward to meet him. "Did you find her or what?"

Balthier didn't even slow. Walking straight past them, he offered only a wave of his hand and announced lightly, "No worries. It's all taken care of." He kept going, leaving the other two to stare after him in wonder.

"Uh—hey! Hold on!" Vaan protested, running after him. Glancing back once at the empty hall, Basch only shook his head and followed.

* * *

"**It's in the air we raise our fists in—**

**In the smiles we cast each other.**

**My sister, my brother.**

**I won't be left here, behind closed doors."**

He'd left her in her room. Riley hadn't expected he'd leave her alone. But then, just when she was starting to doubt his vileness, she realized he had locked the door. So much for hope. He was still only …only a pirate. His reasons were his own and he cared only for his gain. There was nothing more to him after all. Was there? But she thought of his eyes, and his refreshing cold kindness and reaching hand, and she didn't know whether or not to be angry. In the end, though, she decided she was mad. She had to be now. Her secret was out. She'd rather be furious than lost in despair.

She held her wide-brimmed hat between her hands, stroking the worn leather with her bare fingers. With nothing else to do, she'd taken that bath—which was heavenly enough to lift her spirits a little, but now that it was over, all she had to do was lay around on the giant bed and look out the window at the passing clouds. She was glad to have a window. She didn't know much about airships, but it was common sense that windows were scarce unless you were on a leisure cruise.

She wondered how long she had left locked in here. Riley didn't do well in confinement, even if her prison was draped in silk and luxury. She didn't care much right now. It was weird. She was furious, but she couldn't bring it to the surface. Escape didn't have a point now; instincts weren't enough to overcome that fact. That was it. Escape, which for many early years of her life had been sought after like life and light and breath, had no point.

Riley closed her eyes and imagined the farm. She was small and dirty with a short crop of hair, trimmed neatly into a soldier's hairstyle. Her brother sat beside her in the dimly lit room—which had no ceiling and walls of mesh iron. Half-siblings all around, but no mother or father. Everyone knew where they were, though. Feeding time, where Allen fought the other children to make sure Riley had a share. Looking up past the gigantic outside walls outside their enclosure, seeing the sky through another mesh-iron roof. Freedom was out there….freedom, Riley, which you must reach. _"Go…Live, sister, for all of us. Live freely for me."_

_Live freely for me._

Riley cried out suddenly; sheets and pillows were sent flying as she swept them away with a swing of her arm. She threw the hat away and curled up into a tight ball, hands over her head and her ears, as tears found her eyes again. That didn't work; stop it, stop it now! That wasn't right…this wasn't the emotion she'd wanted to bring out. She wanted a drive for freedom—not sorrow, not guilt. But she'd went and done it now; the faces wouldn't leave her sight, nor the voices her ears. Allan's dirty, handsome face, dark red hair, bright green eyes. Her mother's silken tresses, her velvet ears and soft, tan skin. Both faces appeared to her in instances, snapshots against a background of the farm's dark grey walls, and dark brown dirt floor, or dark metal fences. Though she'd seen little of her mother, the viera had given her everything, just like her brother. Allen…who never left her side if he could help it. They had given her everything. And when the right opportunity came, they had given her freedom.

"Me. Always me…" she whispered. Suddenly she exploded from her position, leaping away from the bed and to her feet. "Why is it only_ me!_"

A mechanical beep came from behind her, followed by the swoosh of automatic doors opening. Somebody had come. Riley spun around, eyes locking on Vaan.

"Why," she announced, cutting off whatever he was about to say, "is it always me?"

He wasn't sure how to respond. He hadn't been there two seconds and she was already yelling again? But after a moment of confused silence, Vaan's eyes hardened. Her song was a tired, selfish tune. "It's not always you, Riley. Didn't I tell you everyone has problems?"

"_Vaan!_" she groaned, throwing up her hands. She turned away toward the window, suddenly slamming her fists on the wall. The two youths were silent. Outside, flying clouds reflected midday sunlight, shining in her eyes. "Man…" Riley laughed. We're _both_ stupid." After a sigh to collect herself, she muttered, "That wasn't what I meant."

Vaan closed the doors behind him, stepping further into the room. He was back to being confused, but his annoyance wasn't quite gone. She'd called him stupid, after all. But she'd said the same of herself, so…maybe she only meant that both of them were bad at conversation. And he couldn't argue with that. "Okay…fine. Let's try and be _less_ stupid." He sat down on the bed, a sigh escaping him. "What did you really mean?"

Staring out the window, Riley leaned against the wall, her head resting on one arm. "…I never had problems. They all made sure I was fine…It was always me." The golden sunlight fell across her face, shining off the left-over moisture in her bright green eyes. Eyes like Allen's.

…She was gonna have to tell him. Well. She didn't have to. She always had the option of kicking him out of the room right now, or just refusing to say anything. She didn't want that. Riley had never acknowledged this, and she didn't even now, but behind the walls of peace and denial, she knew she wanted to tell him. That was the one good thing about breaking her promise. She could share it with people. And he would listen. Trust. Vaan would listen.

…This came with friendship. It was wonderful. It was so beautiful it nearly brought her to tears. Weird…scary.

"I come from a place where everyone suffers," she began, still staring off into the sky. "Get it? _Everyone suffered_. Except me. They made sure I was alright; it was mom and my brother—I had a brother, Vaan, a wonderful one. You get that."

Vaan nodded, replying quietly, "Yeah."

"He never let anything bad happen to me. Perfect, huh? I should be grateful? I was useless that way. I felt like…I couldn't understand. Like they were all a part of something I could never get. I had no burden to share." She pictured the other kids, all huddled together, standing in front of each other in defiance of the soldiers that advanced on them, come to take another of them away. She remembered how they all fought, trying to pry another half-sibling from the cold metal hands. But Riley didn't. Riley sat behind her brother's back while the other children banded together in dirty, trodden strength.

"They were a pack of wild mutts," she continued, "everybody fighting and not caring if they got hurt. The only time I ever fought was when Allan turned of age. Just that one time...I really was everyone's sister."

"Turned of age?" Vaan interrupted. "What does that mean?"

It took a moment for her to reply. "When you turned sixteen, they took you out of the farm to live in the barracks and train to be a soldier."

"…Riley what the _heck_ are you talking about? What farm?"

Riley's eyes snapped open wide. She turned to Vaan, seeing genuine confusion on his face. "You…but…Balthier told you…"

"He didn't tell us anything, just said he found you. What do you mean 'the farm'?"

Riley was silent. She only stared, wide-eyed. Balthier…didn't tell them? But she was sure he would. What the…he kept her secret? Well—there was no salvaging it now, but he kept it as best he could, anyway. Riley turned around and looked out the window again.

What…were his reasons?

"Mm…Vaan?" she mumbled, turning away from the window. He looked up, and what she saw on his face assailed her with sudden guilt. He was frustrated, because of being confused. She didn't mean to make him mad. Riley's regret showed on her face.

She turned down her eyes, hugging her elbows. "Sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't know…I was supposed to."

Vaan stared her down for a moment, but in the end, his annoyance couldn't hold. That was probably right. She did try…a little. "It's alright," Vaan sighed grudgingly. When Riley looked his way, he motioned her over. She obeyed, sitting beside him on the bed.

"Sorry I made you feel like you _had_ to tell me," he mumbled.

"...I wanted to. I've always wanted to. Hey." He looked her way, so she could meet his eyes. Her own were glistening again. "So I guess…thank you."

Vaan smiled. That proved it. She was trying. Completely out of the blue, Vaan burst into laughter. It was nice that Riley was the confused one for once.

* * *

She was glad to be off the ship. Big time. Behind fell the darkness of the Bujherba aerodrome as, her companions ahead, Riley stepped out onto the skycity's streets. The moment she did, her anxiety fled. A look of wonder filled her face as she stood, for a second, frozen in childlike awe. It was beautiful.

Vaan, the closest to her, jumped in surprise at Riley's high-pitched squeal. Before he could turn around, she was shooting past him. He could swear he felt a breeze. Watching her running circles and zig-zags around the rest of the group, Vaan laughed to himself. When someone else echoed the sound, Vaan noticed that Basch was watching her too. Vaan's eyes fell for just a moment, but he had only to look back at Riley, and the cloud passed. She was playing around the railing/wall that separated the road from miles of open sky.

Then she gleefully hopped up on said wall, and Vaan nearly swallowed his tongue. His face produced a kind of bug-eyed wince and he started towards her with a jolt. But he was interrupted—strangely enough, by Balthier.

"Gah—be _careful!_" he snapped, reaching a hand her way.

Riley turned around with a small, "Huh?"

"I will not be scraping you off the ground when you fall."

Doh. He cared. ^-^ Riley grinned broadly and started rocking on the balls of her feet. "Of course not, since I will not be falling in the first place."

Casting an annoyed grimace, Balthier only waved a dismissive hand and kept walking. Behind him, Fran hesitated a moment, curiously looking at the girl. Then she turned to Balthier and followed her partner, keeping her musings silent, as they were wont to stay.

Riley stuck her hands in her pockets and kept walking along the wall, staring at Fran, wondering what that stare was for. Pathetically, she'd admit—she was only glad the viera had cast her a glance. But she quickly forgot that when she looked back at Balthier. Riley's grin faded into a small, genuine smile.

As Vaan fell into step beside her, Riley turned her stare and started creeping on him instead. Randomly, she reached out and poked the top of his head with one finger.

"What the—"

"You have a sunburn. On your _head_."

Vaan ducked away until Riley stuck her hand back in her pocket. Then he answered her, "Oh—yeah, probably. We had to cross the Estersand after we escaped from Nalbina. You've never been burned on your scalp?"

"Hats," she reminded. Vaan, in realization, glanced her way. She was looking ahead again, willing to drop it. Vaan took the cue and shut up. But now, he did wonder why she was still wearing it. The gloves, too. It seemed like…wouldn't she get tired of needing them? Now that the rest of them knew, and no harm had come to her, you'd think she would ditch the disguise. So what if the world knew she was a half-breed? Didn't she know he wouldn't let anything happen?

"The Lhusu Mines are just up ahead," Balthier's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Though I do hear there's not much left there these days."

"You're going to the mines?" Suddenly, Riley glanced up from her feet to see a kid in front of her, leaning over the wall she was walking on. Surprised, she jumped back a bit and wobbled alarmingly on the precarious surface. Moving like lightning, Vaan grabbed the trailing end of her long jacket, pulling her off the wall and onto solid ground. She squealed in surprise and nearly fell backwards, but bumped into Basch's outstretched arm.

Riley looked up at the man, beaming. "Thanks, Captain," she laughed. He replied with a small smile and single nod.

"Thanks _Captain?"_ To the side, Vaan gaped at her incredulously. "I just saved you from falling off Bujherba!"

But Riley had already bounded off to rejoin the conversation. The kid from before was talking to Balthier in a weirdly sophisticated kind of voice for someone so young. "...accompany you. I've an errand to attend to there." Now that Riley thought about it, he looked too mature, too. His black hair was neatly brushed back and his clothes were definitely high-class.

"What manner of errand?"

"What errand?" The kid strode right up into the midst of their group, challenging, with cool confidence. "I might ask the same of you."

"…I don' like 'im." Riley mumbled, keeping her voice so low only Vaan could hear.

"Why? He's weird, but he's not bad. I don't think he's doing it on purpose."

"Mm…" Riley kept quiet and looked at the boy more closely. Now that Vaan mentioned it, the kid did seem to be unaware of the way he talked. Maybe what she perceived as arrogance was just normal for him. He must be from somewhere else, where everyone he knew talked that way. Riley smiled. Vaan wasn't as oblivious as he seemed. He was perceptive, in his own small ways.

To Riley's surprise, it was Balthier that said, "Right. Come one then."

"What?" Vaan protested, and Riley agreed. He wasn't a bad kid, but having him come with them? What they were doing in the mines would be dangerous. And the kid was challenging and knew how to get his way. The way he'd turned it around on them made it so that he had to come. …Oh, hangon…that's why. Balthier had to either let him come or reveal their group's errand. Clever kid…heh, Riley was starting to like the little guy. As much as she was becoming irritated with Balthier. He was thinking of his own secrecy only. That was the only reason she was here was because of that reason. Yet he'd torn her secrets from her without hesitation.

"Excellent."

"Do me a favor and stay where I can keep my eye on you? Should be less trouble that way."

"…For us both."

And the deal was sealed, with neither side having to give up anything they didn't want to, and both sides using each other for benefit. Mutual and all. Riley marveled that a kid so young smart enough to set that up. …Did everyone around here think of only themselves?

Finally, Vaan asked a normal question. "So what's your name?"

"Oh—I, uh…I-I'm Lamont."

Lies. Riley didn't need the mist to tell her that was a lie. But hey, as long as they were doing the whole mutual-using-each-other thing, he wasn't obligated to tell them his name. …Come to think of it, it was only mutual for him. All her side got was the not having to reveal why they were there. It was like silent blackmail. Clever kid… But if he was gonna lie, he should do it right. He was _terrible_ at it.

But, and just as Riley was beginning to think he wasn't completely dense, Vaan actually _bought_ it. "I don't know what's in that mine, Lamont...But you're in good hands." He scratched his nose casually, trynna look like a hotshot er summin. Riley sighed/grumbled, glaring at him dully.

But then, he turned to Basch and…used his name.

"Right, Basch?"

Riley produced an involuntary squeak. She saw Balthier's mouth drop open as he and Basch glanced at each other in amazement. Riley stared at Vaan. The dumb blonde finally seemed to realize what he'd done, his confidence dropping like a rock. His expression read, "Ohh crap…"

She was expecting a lot more than what happened. Basch and Balthier only groaned to each other, and Lamont just stared with a suspicious silence at them. In the end, they just headed off to the mines. Riley waited until everyone else had walked past, then danced up behind Vaan.

"Dumb blonde," she mumbled, and thumped him in the back of his thick head.

She scampered away with Vaan yelling protests in the background.

* * *

"So...quick movements, and lots of hits?"

"Yeah," Vaan answered. "Daggers are fast but they don't do a lot of damage. So you have to cover for the power part by striking as many times as you can."

"Kay." Riley twirled the blade around, getting a feel for its weight and whatnot. They'd even ought her some armor—out of Balthier's pocket, which brought much grumbling from the pirate. She'd never tried fighting with actual weapons before. She was pretty sure it was a lot different than fistfights, and she had usually run from those anyway. But she was with people this time, people who were used to fighting. She'd be okay. She could always run…but that thought somehow scared her so she put it out of her mind.

"The Lhusu mines. One of the richest veins in Ivalice."

Riley's eyes narrowed. "Richest. You _would_ pick that, of all things to say."

Balthier glanced her way, a glint of annoyed challenge in his eyes. "Something on your mind?"

Riley shoved her new dagger into its sheath, pretending to be too busy to answer. Beside her, Vaan bit his lip and looked away.

When Basch stepped forward to break the tension, Vaan silently thanked the man. "Under Imperial guard, no doubt."

"Actually, no." Lamont stepped forward, showing more of that weird smartness that no normal boy his age should possibly possess. "With but few exceptions, the Imperial army is not permitted within Bhujerba. Well. Shall we proceed?" And he walked off. Proceeding and all.

Riley noticed how Balthier and Basch looked at each other, exchanging the same thoughts. Thinking how weird Lamont was, no doubt. Riley's sourness faltered just a moment. Friendship with Basch. Peace and denial…maybe there was hope. He hadn't told anyone else, and that had given her hope. She'd begun to accept it. But…the way she'd felt… If doing that to her wasn't absolutely necessary, she was going to bash the stupid pirate's head in.

Out in front, Balthier walked tall and silent, looming like a mystery she couldn't fully see. Beside him walked Fran, reminding her that there were other mysteries she couldn't glimpse at all. Riley's eyes steeled. Her gloved hands balled into determined fists, she followed them into the mines. She was going to read these hidden pages if it was the last thing she did. She was going to free herself of his manipulation and mystery. Now, with the pirates' backs in her sight, she knew why she couldn't run away.

She was following freedom.

* * *

***Lyric headings:** "Don't Let Me Get Me by P!nk, Behind Closed Doors by Rise Against. I know there's only two...V_V


	5. Chasing Freedom

"**The secret side of me I never let you see…**

**I keep it caged but I can't control it.**

**So stay away from me; the beast is ugly.**

**I feel the rage and I just can't hold it."**

"You have no doubts about their coming?"

"Mm?" Balthier glanced to the side, where Fran walked with her usual long and confident strides. Following her gaze, he noticed she was watching the children. Riley was sticking close behind Basch, but Vaan was trailing off to the side of them. The strange new kid was hovering in the Captain's shadow, too.

"Well. At least they're cautious," Balthier replied. If scared and mousy counted as cautious. Vaan was the exception to the rule. He looked around a lot, clearly nervous, but he wasn't like Riley. Balthier couldn't help but laugh.

The sound attracted Fran's attention. She turned from the path ahead and looked into his face instead. She didn't say anything, but Balthier caught her stare and accurately read it as a question. He shook his head. "Nothing… She looks like a mouse in a lion's den."

Fran looked back at the girl. She couldn't say he was wrong. Fran understood what Balthier had laughed at. It wasn't that the child was scared; it was because she was scared over nothing that he was amused. Nothing that worrisome, at least. Still, Fran couldn't take mirth in seeing the girl frightened. Even though nothing was likely to happen, Riley didn't know that. Fear over nothing was still fear. Balthier should say something to her.

But it was never in Fran's nature to say things like that to him. Balthier's heart was off-limits to the world…even to her. Anyway, why say anything? She couldn't suggest that he change.

A frightened squeal pierced through the silence. Basch stumbled forward, pushed from behind as someone crashed into him. Turning, he looked under his arm to see Riley clinging to him, growling fearfully.

"What is it?" he asked. By now everyone was looking at her with similar confusion.

"Mm!" Riley pointed angrily, thrusting her arm to the path ahead. The empty path ahead. Where nothing was there.

Awkward silence. "Um, Riley…" Vaan muttered.

Balthier exhaled impatiently, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright…" he mumbled, annoyed as usual. "Whatever you thought you saw, it's clearly noth—"

He broke off as Fran stalked past him, drawing her bow even as she walked. She stood out in front, an arrow drawn and ready, bow pointed in the exact direction as Riley's finger. Still, there was nothing there. The group's confused attention turned to Fran. Balthier watched her eyes. With no idea why, he hesitantly reached over his shoulder for his gun. Even so, no one else drew a weapon.

A ragged form appeared from around the bend ahead. Rattling, scraping sounds reverberated off the stone walls: apparently, the creature's footsteps. As it got closer, the monster's form became clearer. It was a skeletal body, nothing but yellowed bones and sparse, ancient armor.

Fran's arrow fired, smacking into the creature, which staggered but didn't fall. It kept coming. A shot followed as Balthier's gun sent an ear-splitting crack through the tunnel. The thing still didn't fall.

Riley staggered back as Basch moved, drawing his sword and charging forward. She tried to jump behind Vaan, but to her dismay, he was doing the _exact same thing _as Basch. Stupid! Crazy stupid! She was gonna have to fight it too now! Riley's trembling hand fumbled with the dagger belted at her hip. Her fingers couldn't even get the strap undone. The gloves got in the way.

Finally, Riley yanked the dagger from its sheath. But when she looked up, the skeleton was gone. Well. It was there, but dead. Basch was standing by it, sliding his sword back into its sheath.

"You're kidding me—I didn't even get one hit." Vaan sighed and kicked at the pile of bones. He re-sheathed his knife, too.

"Sorry," Basch replied, a laugh tinting his voice. "The next one is yours."

Riley blinked. Her hands, still gripping the handle of her dagger, gradually stopped their trembling. Well…that was…that was easy. Staring at the crumpled pile of bones, she released a breathy laugh. That thing died easy. And they were joking over its not-a-threat corpse.

Riley stepped up beside Vaan, tilting her head as she looked down at the pile of bones. She blinked a few times. It wasn't even a corpse. What the heck had she been worried about? Vaan's fist bumped her on the shoulder. "We'll get another one," he assured. And Riley actually grinned.

Until, that is, she heard the sharp retort of gunshot, along with Balthier's quiet outcry. Her heart jolted again; she spun around to see the pirates being attacked by some kind of dark fluttering shapes…bats. S…steelings. The mist couldn't tell her much else. Fran and Balthier were ranges, so they had been standing farther back when the skeleton had drawn them all up close—and now they were surrounded by two enemies that had come from behind.

"C'mon!" Vaan drew his dagger and charged forward, calling out, "They're weak against earth spells!" He was the only one who'd casted Libra, so he'd know.

"Here!" someone shouted. Off to the side, Lamont had drawn his weapons. He took something—a potion bottle—from his bag and tossed it through the air. To Riley's surprise, no one tried to catch it. The bottle crashed against Balthier's back, shattering, the contents splashing out to douse his shirt and hair.

So that's how it worked. Riley knew now why all the bottles she'd dropped helping Migelo had broken so easily. They were supposed to. She always wondered how potions could be any use in the middle of a battle. She always figured you had to drink them, but apparently you just have to get soaked with them. They were even quicker to use than spells.

Suddenly, Riley raised her head with a gasp, her eyes shining with their yellow light. She whirled around, dagger gripped in her hands—trembling once more. A few seconds after, the ground in front of her seemed to tremble. Bones broke through the concrete, rising through the air as if moved by the wind, forming together amidst a swirling cloud of darkness. Out of the hazy blackness, two horrible, cracked faces of bone appeared, with grinning mouthfuls of broken teeth under their hollow eyes.

Riley shrieked and stumbled back, whipping her dagger mindlessly. The blade cracked against bone, which crumbled under the blade. The feeling was strange…satisfying. As the skeleton shrieked and staggered back, the terror slowly drained from Riley's eyes, replaced with something more like quiet awe. Before she even knew it, she was striking again. This time, her dagger sliced off a rib.

Riley's eyes widened, her lips curling back in frightful glee. This was easy. This was…fun. Now she knew what Vaan's earlier disappointment had meant. Adrenaline and delight flooded her veins. A delighted, crude laugh escaping her, Riley stabbed forward again and again, driving back the skeleton with hit after hit. She was lightning fast.

And as fast as she was, she was vulnerable.

Riley's delight turned to anguish in an instant, when a cruel and vicious pain exploded within her left shoulder. Screaming, she thrashed to get away, ripping herself off the jagged lance. It hurt…it _hurt_! She had to get away! Every instinct screamed inside her to get away. Clutching her bleeding shoulder, she turned to run, legs moving so fast her feet slipped on the stone floor. She fell, catching herself on one knee and an elbow. New pain assailed her, but Riley's feral mind registered only the pressing doom of her enemies. Wound and all, she scrambled desperately to get away, gloved fingers scratching vainly at the stone floor. She needed her claws…her claws!

A bony hand closed like a vice around her ankle.

Riley twisted around in an instant, her face a mask of nothing but primal, terrified rage. Her dagger sliced furiously, again and again with no precision but only heated desperation. The skeleton's arm was soon reduced to splinters and powder. But its friend was still there, and just like before, Riley was too occupied with the first attacker to notice the other one creeping up from the right. Riley shut her eyes, wet with tears of sheer terror.

An unearthly shriek rent the surrounding battle-noise. "_B-BASCH!_"

The skeleton's spear drove forward again.

A hand snatched her by the arm, yanking her to her feet. Before she could react, he pulled her back and away from the battle, just barely escaping another thrusting lance.

* * *

"**I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear.**

**And I can't help but ask myself**

**How much I let the fear take the wheel and steer."**

Balthier drew her around the corner, cutting them both off from the battle. Riley struggled. Growling angrily, she twisted her arm from his grasp, falling against the stone wall, gasping for breath. Eyes closed, she hugged her arms around herself, trying to resist the urge to sink to the ground. The heat and desperation was slowly draining away. Her heart was still beating like ninety times a second, but… As her head cleared, though, the adrenaline drained away, leaving her open to the pain. It was horrifying; worse than any pain she'd ever felt before. She'd never been pierced by a real blade...

Just when she thought she couldn't bear staying conscious anymore, she felt the the soothing effects of Cure falling over her. It restored her, but only about halfway, so Balthier began casting again.

Eventually Riley opened her eyes, but still didn't look at him. Her breathing was becoming less ragged. "I…I called for Basch…"

"He was a bit occupied fighting his own battle. As was I."

Anger touched Riley's face as well. She knew exactly what he was getting at. He was annoyed with her and it was infuriating. He had no right. "Then you shouldn't have helped," Riley snapped back. "Basch wouldn't have cared to help."

"You're welcome."

Riley was sick of his arrogance. "Don't pretend you deserve thanks for being irritated!" she shouted. "I _called_ for _Basch_!"

The second Cure was finished. Riley pushed herself off the wall, stumbling a little. Balthier watched her. He didn't offer his arm for support. She wouldn't accept it. It wasn't Basch's strong, noble hand. Balthier kept his face stony, but inside, he was…uneasy. What he had seen disturbed even the cool-headed pirate. She was an animal. That kind of mindless ferocity only came from a feral, wounded beast. Balthier couldn't be sure such behavior didn't cross the border into madness. She was no innocent girl…but that much he had known for a while.

His blank face unchanging, Balthier only asked in a quiet voice, "Are you alright?"

"You don't care. You don't even want me here."

"Alright, no, I don't! And you don't want to stay." Balthier returned, his tone finally breaking above talking pitch. He...he actually yelled for once. As she caught sight of his face, Riley stumbled backward until her back hit the wall, cowering away from the familiar cloud of fury that chased her from his eyes. For a moment, it seemed like…like maybe he had glasses, and five o' clock shadow…

As suddenly as he had changed, Balthier faded, returning to his stony coldness. "Why are you here, then?"

It took a moment for her to respond, building up enough pain to cut through the fear. "Be…because I…" Voice dropping, Riley turned down her eyes, "…live freely."

There was a small pause of silence. "What?" Balthier spat impatiently.

"I have to and you're the only way there!" she shouted, so angry it was nearly desperation.

Silent, Balthier only scowled...gently. How one could manage a gentle scowl was beyond her, but he did. So. Her motives were her own. Her hypocrisy was beyond his belief. The fool child didn't even realize it. But…it was a motive not too different from his own.

"Well!" Balthier announced, causing her to look his way. He was grinning in that lazy, carefree way of his, thumbs hooked in his belt. "In that case, I would suggest you lose the hat and gloves."

"Wh…huh!" Riley snapped, gaping indignantly.

"Of course. You're much prettier without them, anyway." He glanced at her just long enough to toss a wink and click his tongue. Then he lifted his gun and was gone, back around the bend and into the fight, leaving a fuming Riley to glare viciously at his back, her face flaming red.

* * *

"**It's driven me before, and it seems to be the way that everyone else gets around.**

**But lately I'm beginning to find that when I drive myself, my light is found.**

**Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there. **

**With open arms and open eyes—yeah."**

Basch slid his sword free of the dying bat-like creature, pinning down its wing with his foot. The steeling jerked and shrieked once before finally laying still.

Basch spun around immediately. "H-here!" he called, knowing it was a late cry, but fell silent when he realized—there was no one to answer to.

He searched the battlefield, striving to see past the tumult created by Lamont and Fran's skirmish with two skeletons that had appeared. He didn't see the girl. Leaving Vaan to handle the one remaining steeling, Basch broke into a run toward the area he'd heard the voice come from, eyes scanning the tunnel from wall to wall.

Before he could get far, though, another figure stepped out from the corner of an adjacent tunnel, gun raised. A sharp retort cracked through the air as the sky pirate's gun fired a shot into a skeleton across the tunnel, one that was getting ever closer to Fran and her long-ranged weapon. Before it could force her into a disadvantage with close-combat, the creature fell to her partner's deadly-accurate aim. Fran glanced his way, and even from the distance, he could see the silent thanks. He dipped his head in a nod. Balthier also considered that shot a repayment to the boy for that potion earlier. Now he was obligation-free.

There was only one left for the two of them, and it was nearly dead anyway. Seeing that the others had it under control, Balthier turned his attention toward the captain, quickly walking out to meet him.

"Hold on there, soldier," Balthier drawled, stopping the captain by tapping a hand on his shoulder.

"I heard someone call—"

"Pay no mind; it's under control. You can repay the favor by answering one of _my_ calls to duty." Balthier crossed his arms casually. A light smirk was painted on his face.

Understanding, Basch released a grumbly sigh. "…Hm. What calls?" he quipped.

Balthier glared dully. Was that an insult? He couldn't tell much with the guy's overall…stoic-ness, but the tiny hint of a devious smile on Basch's face gave him away. He was screwing with him! …Heh. What do you know. There was more to the man than just his captain's status and fallen honor. Before Balthier could form a clever retort, however, Fran joined them, followed closely by Lamont.

"We should move," the viera stated, cool-headed as usual. "Before our negligence repeats itself." For the first time, she noticed Balthier's crossed arms and resigned glare. "What is it?"

"I'm anything but negligent."

"Of course."

"Are you two done?" an impatient voice snapped. Vaan jogged up to them, in the process of putting his dagger back into its sheath.

Balthier scowled, turning away. "Calm down," he muttered, walking off towards the corpses of the closest monsters. "We'll find your girl soon enough."

"What are you doing?" But then Balthier held up a small, black stone, examining it in the low light. Dark magicite? …Vaan got it. He was looting.

"Balthier!" he groaned. "We don't have time!"

To Vaan's surprise and further annoyance, Fran walked past him and started doing the same thing as her partner. Balthier looked up with a smirk. "Never leave the loot," he quipped. Then he went right back to looting. Being a pirate and all.

"…Fine," Vaan grumbled, moving forward. He'd help if it got them moving faster. He went to the dead steelings, grimacing as he knelt beside them. He'd killed a lot of things and looted them too, but it never got any less gross. Wind stone. Not bad. Not awesome, either.

When that was finally done with, Balthier split it up into their shared inventory. As much as the pirate hated sharing perfectly valuable loot, they had already decided that any items would be divided among all of them equally. Potions and the like, as well—but that was for strategy. If one person had all the restorative items, it'd suck for everybody else if they got cut off from the group. Lamont just had his own inventory, and luckily for them, he expressed a disinterest in loot. Vaan figured it made sense. Anyone who could afford clothes like that probably wouldn't.

"Hang on—I'm carrying too much," Vaan said. "Who has the least items?"

"Here." A hand impatiently snatched the loot from his hand. A clawed hand. And not Fran's manicure, either.

Vaan stared wide-eyed as Riley, suddenly beside him, crammed the loot into one of her many pockets. She avoided all eye-contact with anyone. She didn't speak, either.

"R-Riley?" he mumbled, eyes glued to the top of her head.

"Yeah, what." she growled, obviously not wanting an answer. She crossed her arms and still didn't look at him.

Vaan drew back for an instant, but then he relaxed, smiling. "Nothin."

Riley hid behind her hair. She knew everyone was staring at her. But one set of eyes in particular caught her attention. Riley looked up, saw Balthier's cool and silent gaze, and furiously looked away again.

Without a word, she walked right up to him, pointedly keeping her gaze way off to the side. She thrust her hand in his direction, fist balled around a bundle of cloth. Just a little surprised, Balthier held out his hand, and Riley slapped her huge hat into his open palm. She yanked her gloves out of her pocket and gave them up, too. Then she turned aside, crossing her arms, and glared at the ground.

Balthier's gaze burrowed into her. But then, he simply nodded, putting away the hat and gloves into his satchel. He hadn't expected for her to break through so quickly. Actually, he hadn't had very high hopes at all. And he thought he understood why she wanted him to take them. The fact that she chose him actually struck a chord somewhere.

"We should move." Riley couldn't help but glance up, some of her sourness leaving her, as Fran interjected. The viera's expression no longer showed cool-headed indifference…it was still blank, but Riley almost read sympathy behind her beautiful eyes. Riley blinked, her eyes wide as saucers.

So they moved. Even while she walked away, Riley glanced back once at the skeletons—unthreatening scrap heaps once again—and was attacked by flashes of memory as she recalled terror and mindlessness. She'd experienced her instincts a lot before, but only on few occasions were they that strong. She never even though about controlling them. She wondered…if that was bad. But how quickly her monsters had fled, when he came and...

Riley suppressed the urge to feel gratitude. Balthier had not saved her out of goodness or care.

Apparently no one did that here.

"Riley," Basch's deep voice called her attention, so she turned around.

"Uh…yeah…" Riley answered, her voice barely above a whisper. The captain fell into step beside her.

"I am sorry—for not coming when you called. I couldn't get away from the fight."

Wide-eyed once again, Riley produced a small sound of quiet surprise. She didn't need the mist to tell her he was genuinely worried about this. Even as unshed tears stung her eyes, a smile forced its way onto her face. "That's…okay. You meant to. Right?"

"Of course." He nodded, with a small smile, but Riley's own smile faded as a flash of red caught her eye.

Her demeanor concerned, she pointed to a gash along the man's shoulder.

"Oh…" He shrugged, wincing at the motion, and began casting cure.

"_He was a bit occupied fighting his own battle."_

Riley's gaze returned to her feet. A problem solved, but another rising. She…she'd not killed a single thing. She didn't even help—not really. All that talk, all that puffy-chested bravado and wishing to fight—this is what it came to? She'd done nothing more than scream for help and turn into a beast.

…Wait. Maybe that could work for her.

A crooked grin twisted the corners of Riley's mouth. A beast, huh…

Riley glanced up at the path ahead, eyes locking on Balthier's turned back. He'd been right. As much as she loathed it, she had to admit what he said was right. In his own way, he was telling her the truth. The hat and gloves imprisoned her more than any circumstances she found herself in. Why did he tell her? She didn't worry about it much. Not that she'd given up finding out…but now, it was time for her own thoughts.

Riley glanced down at the bag hanging at his side. Yes, she wanted them back. She felt vulnerable and naked. She knew that, with Balthier holding onto the hat and gloves, her temptation couldn't force her to return to them. She had to leave them behind.

She thought back to the cargo bay, and then a divine relief washed over her when she thought: he could never again use that as a way to control her. No one could. Controlling was for herself to do. The feel of air on her hands was still as beautiful, and it was a relief not having to worry about keeping the hat from falling off. She could see better too.

Riley smiled, cloth-bare hands clenched into fists. This could work.

* * *

Lamont seemed enchanted as he stepped out into the wide cavern, his upturned face illuminated with the strange blue light that emanated from the walls. "This is what I came here to see."

Riley pushed past the others as they filed into the gigantic cave-like chamber. As much as she was nervous, she was curious. This room was apparently natural and there were few man-made objects around, so she shouldn't be able to use her ability. But, strangely, she wasn't cut off from the voice of structures. She didn't worry about it now; she was fascinated by the glowing rocks.

Vaan looked down at Lamont, who was kneeling and inspecting the rocks as well. "What's that?"

"It's nethecite. Manufacted nethecite.

Oh. That explains why she wasn't cut off from her power. It was man-made after all, at least to a degree. Riley ran up to the wall and poked at one of the "nethecites," scraping at it with a claw. Glowing dust coated her finger, and as she moved her hand, blue light trailed from the tip of her finger. Like a firefly. Riley laughed and swirled her finger around in the air, barely listening as Lamont started describing how the stuff worked.

"Unlike regular magicite, nethecite absorbs magical energy."

He rambled on, and Riley danced around giggling in the background, scraping more dust onto her fingertips.

"This is the fruit of research into the manufacture of nethecite."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she still was listening. But most of her concentration was on trying to draw shapes in the air before the light faded. Over his shoulder, Balthier stared down at the boy, a sharpness in the pirate's eyes that was extremely given to foreshadowing.

"All at the hands of the Draklor laboratory."

Riley froze.

She backed away from the wall, her happy grin frozen on a terrified face. She glanced down at her shaking hands, coated in blue dust. Draklor. It was bred of Draklor. She flung her hands desperately, clawing at her jacket, trying to wipe the horrible stuff off. It came from that awful Draklor—that horrible chamber of mad mutation... Whimpering sounds of fear escaped her. She stumbled further back, hands working furiously to be rid of the evil blue powder.

Suddenly, large and steady hands were on her shoulders, spinning her around. She looked into Basch's chiseled face, concern beneath the beard stubble and scar. "Riley, what is it?" he was asking.

Her mouth worked around words that wouldn't come to her. Finally she was able to mutter, "I…We—we have to leave…"

"What do you—"

Riley's hands latched onto his forearms, clinging to him desperately. "We have to leave! Now!" she pleaded, her eyes begging him.

Confused, Basch glanced over his shoulder, but there was another dramatic scene stealing attention. Balthier drilled the boy with questions, advancing on him in a way that grew threatening with every step.

"…that sample you carry? What do you know about the Draklor laboratories?"

Lamont turned, apparently trying to run, but Balthier slammed his hand on the wall in front of him. "Tell me: who are you?" he demanded. The boy's eyes darted nervously, searching for an escape.

"Balthier—" Concerned, Vaan started to interject. But a menacing, gravelly voice from behind stopped each tense scenario in its tracks, stealing the attention of all.

"You kept us waiting, Balthier..."

* * *

Every eye turned toward the entrance, where four nasty-looking, very decorated bangaa were entering the cave, weapons in hand, grinning with twisted delight. The speaker held a pole and a giant buzz saw over his head and smashed them together, creating a really weird, mean-looking weapon. His friends all came forward, too, snarling in anticipation, waving their weapons around in utter enjoyment. The way Balthier groaned in recognition put Riley on edge. He knew them and they were bad news.

"Ye slipped away in Nalbina—we missed ya!"

Basch pushed riley behind him, keeping one arm held slightly out in front of her. His hand was on the hilt of his sword. Riley's fearful eyes snapped from him to Fran, who was standing beside them. The viera already had her bow drawn and was was glancing worriedly between the bangaa and her own partner. A cold pang of fear shot through her heart as Riley understood. They were after him.

"First the Judge and now this boy." Did he mean Lamont? The group kept moving forward as the lead bangaa talked. "The whole affair has a smell of money about it. I may have to wet my beak a little!"

Balthier took a step forward, which put him in a very defiant-looking sideways pose. He raised his head high with angry pride. "Keep your snout in the trough where it belongs!" At that, Riley's fear was somewhat lost to the squee factor.

"This thinking ill befits you, Ba'Gamnan."

Ba'Gamnan returned with an evil sneer, drawing out the pirate's name in a devilishly gleeful voice. "Balthier…" He laughed, a grating, gurgling sound, and as he raised his weapon, Riley felt anger bubbling up underneath the fear. "Too long have I gone unpaid! I'll carve my bounty out of that boy!"

Vaan suddenly interjected, stepping forward as boldly as Balthier had. "Where's Penelo! We're taking her back."

"The girl? Why keep the bait when ye've landed the fish? We cut 'er loose on the way here and then off she ran, cryin like a babe!"

And then, the whole situation exploded. Lamont threw his piece of nethecite at the giant lizard freak, landing it right between his beady eyes. The kid started running, then Vaan after him yelling "Hey!" Balthier was next, shoving the off-balance bangaa to the ground.

Before she knew it, Riley's running instinct gave her a good kick in the tail, and she took off like a shot, ducking under Basch's arm. She did glance back once, though, to make sure he was running too. He was. Fran was beside her, and Riley glanced over just long enough to see the viera jump through the air, land her heel in Ba'Gamnan's ribs, and launch herself over him. Riley would have laughed if she'd thought to.

Grunts of anger came from behind, followed by: "After them!"

They all more or less grouped together when they got into the narrower tunnel that lead out, and Riley found herself running between the sky pirates. She scrambled over the uneven ground, never once losing balance, but coming close several times.

"Hey!" Vaan yelled after Lamont, who was far ahead by now. "Wait up!"

"We'll not be able to take them all! Fight who we must; leave the rest!" That was the leading man.

Riley scrambled over the uneven ground, but had no trouble keeping up with them. When they got to the stone staircase, she broke off from the path, moving instead for the railing at the top. She planted one hand on the flat top of the rail and flung her legs over in a vault. She landed on the flat below and, swinging her arms, launched herself in a forward leap that took her past the rest of the stairs. When she hit the ground, she tucked her shoulder and rolled, absorbing the momentum, coming right back up to her feet. She was now third in line, right behind Vaan.

Grinning as she panted for breath, Riley spared a second to congratulate herself for the excellent freerunning. The impacts had stung her ankles and shoulder, but a little pain was unavoidable no matter how good you were, and it faded fast.

…Man…This was fun. It was terrifying and life-threatening, but she was so insane with the adrenaline, it actually seemed fun.

* * *

"**Already the show goes on, alright.**

**We dream so long…**

**Anybody ever wonder when you would see the sun up,**

**Just remember when it comes up—the show goes on, alright."**

After what seemed like hours of running, they were finally able to slow down, resting under the shelter of a tunnel that came right after one of those giant bridges. The bangaa had fallen behind a long while ago, but they'd been running more just to make sure.

"It would not seem they follow. We've lost them," Fran's exotic voice announced, to everyone's relief.

Rolling his shoulders as he stretched, Balthier drawled, "Much more running about with bangaa at my heels and I'm apt to give up sky pirating altogether."

Heh. It was amusing how he pronounced "bangaa." Panting for breath, Riley leaned against the wall and sank to the ground beside Vaan. She propped her arm on his shoulder and half-leaned against him. "You can sure pick some good fights…can'tcha?" she panted, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding like a rabbit's.

Equally breathless, Vaan muttered, "That's just 'cause it's easy not to like him…" Riley snickered in reply.

The pirate scowled but otherwise ignored them.

After they all caught their breath and took a moment to use the miners' transportation crystal, they got moving again. Lamont was nowhere to be seen, and though it was dangerous and everything for someone his age to be alone in the mines, the kid had the mind of a freakin 20-year old. And he could fight and had like an endless supply of potions. So there was little worry. Vaan worried about him, but there was still Penelo to find, and since both of them would go back to the city, that's where they all decided to go.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Riley felt the nervousness creeping up on her again. She wasn't so scared of the mine itself anymore, or the monsters in it, but rather the bangaa. Then, she had an idea, and nearly slapped herself for not realizing it before. She grabbed onto Vaan's shoulder as a guide to walk by, then closed her eyes.

Vaan glanced her way, thinking she wanted something, but he got it when he saw her glowing eyes. "What're you looking for?" he asked, knowing by now what she was doing. Balthier hadn't told them much, only the very basics of her power: she heard buildings like viera heard the wood and had enhanced strength, speed, and senses.

Riley didn't answer him directly, but when she opened her eyes again, she announced to everyone: "They're way far behind us. I don't think they're moving anymore. Oh—Vaan! Hangon a minute…"

Riley closed her eyes again, then after a moment, a grin spread on her face. She lifted her head. "Penelo's really close to the exit. She's finding her way out."

Vaan's surprise faded into delight. He laughed incredulously. "Riley!" he blurted, grabbing her by the shoulders. "You're freakin amazing!"

Riley beamed like the sun. Vaan took off at a jog, yelling back at them all to "Come on!"

But Riley didn't follow him, and neither did anyone else. He wouldn't get too far ahead before he stopped to wait for them. Right now, Riley's delight was fading as she realized eyes were drilling her from behind. She crossed her arms self-consciously and ducked her head, trying to ignore it.

It went on for like five minutes before she finally worked up the nerve to mumble, "P…please don't stare at them, Miss Fran…"

"Apologies," the viera's exotic voice answered as she advanced her pace, coming to walk beside Riley. They both knew they were talking about the half-veira's ears. "I was admiring their beauty."

Riley's head snapped up in surprise; she even gasped a little. "You…r-really?"

Fran's head dipped in a nod, swaying her silken hair. A smile of elation broke like the dawn on Riley's face. She blushed furiously and fidgeted around with her claws. "Thank you…Miss Fran…"

"You are welcome." This was the most Riley had ever heard the woman talk. Fran raised a finger to point at the side of Riley's head, where a hume ear poked out from her red hair. "What of those?"

"Oh—they don't work. They never have."

Fran nodded again. A few moments of silence passed, and Riley didn't feel pressured to fill them with words. Not with Fran. Silence was comfortable. But then she thought of something she wanted to say.

"You believed me, huh?" Riley asked. "The first time we fought the skeletons. You were the first one to draw your weapon and everyone followed you."

"I doubted not your instincts. Your ears can hear things we others cannot."

"Oh," Riley mumbled, looking at the ground. "He told you huh?"

Fran turned her beautiful crimson eyes toward her, searching inquisitively. "He told us what was necessary that we hear."

Riley nodded. She guessed that was okay. It had to be anyway, because if it wasn't, she would have to be helpless.

A few more moments of silence. This time, Fran broke it. "He does what is necessary. That is all."

"…He doesn't like it."

Fran's voice was serene. "Does he have to?"

Riley glanced up, taken aback slightly. Did he? Did it matter if he griped and grumbled the whole way, as long as he did the right thing? Thinking about it for a minute, Riley finally answered, "…It'd be nice. If he meant it…or did something good because he wanted to."

"Or did something beyond what is required," she answered. Curious at her sad tone, Riley looked up at the veira's angular, tan face, which was turned only to the path ahead. "Because he wanted to."

"But," Fran added, her voice suggesting a smile, but with a blank face, "I would not change him."

Riley's eyes widened, her deduction skills kicking in. Fran shared the same view. But she...accepted him. And she seemed happy with it. Riley returned her eyes to the ground. Not completely happy, but…alright. Among these revelations, Riley had the presence of mind to think that she ought to smile. She'd unraveled a little part of the mystery. But now she didn't feel like smiling.

After a while of walking, during which (thankfully) no monsters attacked them, a call from up ahead echoed back to them from up ahead. "Hey!" Vaan sounded excited and impatient. "The exit is ahead—hurry up!"

The group broke into a jog. Finally…time to save Penelo and…and…

Fear struck her so hard it nearly stopped her in her tracks. What would happen…when this all was over? When Penelo was safe and the pirates had their pay, and everyone went about their merry way…where would she go? They would all separate, too…everyone back to their own lives, and camaraderie would be useless and forgotten. And she…after all this…could she ever go back to the gutters? That life was just as bad a prison as her first home.

But the light was growing stronger around the bend, washing away her time and her sudden, horrible epiphany. There was no time to think of that right now, because, as they all emerged from Lhusu's gaping maw, they were greeted by the sight of none other than the imperials.

Fran suddenly grabbed her arm, dragging her behind one of the pillars, like everyone else was doing. It was the same group they'd spied on earlier, when they'd come into the mines. Hidden behind the pillars, they watched as a familiar kid, whose name Riley was now 100% sure was _not_ Lamont, strode right up to the thickly-armored soldier…apparently a Judge.

"I see you've been out walking without the company of your cortege…" the Judge said, his voice ringing metallically from behind his helmet.

"…Lord Larsa."

Riley nearly swallowed her tongue. She didn't know much of politics…but she knew that name… Everyone at the farms was required to know that name. This kid was Vayne's brother.

Riley's eyes narrowed. There was far more to worry about in Bhujerba than monsters in the mines.

* * *

***Lyric headings:** "Monster" by Skillet, "Drive" by Incubus, "Drive" again, and "The Show Goes On" by Lupe Fiasco.

***A/N:** I know it's short and kinda rushed...but I really wanted to get it done and posted quickly for you guys.^^ Anyway, I liked the first scene. It was fun making Riley into a beast. D I tried rounding everyone a little more, hopefully I didn't let that draw me away from the action too much.


	6. AN

A'ight! This is a stickup! Errybody put your wallets in the bag and nobody gets hurt!

Ok no this is just a really weird author's note. ^-^

So I've gone back and edited chapter one to make it less corny and make more sense. I wanted to add more depth to the characters. I also tried blending everything ore smoothly so hopefully it doesn't seem harsh and rushed like before.

Also, I've been working on chapter six! o0o *gasp!*

Yes! I have.^^ It's a little under halfway done. I got a tiny burst of inspiration and I'm squeezing every drop of creativity I can out of it. Anyway. I won't make any promises as to when it'll be done but I figured I'd let you know that at least one more chapter is on its way pretty soon. =] Just gotta figure out how to end it... I'm thinking I twist the plot in some form or fashion. Anyway, I'm workin on it.

So, sorry if any of this occurred: "Oh look an update! =] *click* ….wait...WTH this is just a notice! D

It's just I haven't posted in a long while and I wanted to let you guys know I haven't abandoned the fic. Hopefully I have some readers left XP And if I do, thanks for being loyal! XD

Till next time (which will be soon hopefully.)

*Flare


	7. The Threads We Cling To

**A/N:** So by a sudden and fierce bout of writing fever, I have stayed up until 3:30 am and finished the chapter! XD Hopefully it's good. Enjoy, leave reviews maybe, you know how I love those reviews. ^^

.~*~.

She'd never seen his face, only the Emperor's and occasionally Vayne's. Larsa had been born when Riley was still busy being livestock, and by the time she got out, he was still too small to come out into public much. That didn't appear to be stopping the kid now. Lord Larsa was out and about like he owned the world. Probably he thought he would one day. Hiding behind the pillar, Riley scowled at the kid's back as he dragged Penelo away by the hand, his Imperial friends following shortly after. A low growl rumbled in the back of her throat.

Fran's hand on her shoulder drew her attention and she turned around. The others had grouped back together, emerging from their hiding spots. Vaan was first to talk, naturally. "What's Penelo doing? And what's the deal with that Lamont?"

"He's a mud-covered weasel is his deal," Riley spat, her arms crossed as she reclined against her pillar. "And quit callin' him Lamont."

"Why?"

"That's his weasel name."

Striding forward, Balthier cut in, "Larsa Ferrinas Solidor. Fourth son to Emperor Granis…and brother to Vayne."

"_What_?" Vaan answered stupidly, sharply looking back at the stairway the Imperials had taken. "That kid!"

"No blondie, the invisible flying gerbil sitting on the kid's head."

Vaan's glare snapped to Riley and he opened his mouth to scream at her, but thankfully, the bomb was defused by Fran. "Do not worry," she interrupted. "I believe he will treat her well."

For an instant, Riley's face was incredulous, but she immediately wiped the expression away.

Grinning slightly, Balthier jerked a thumb Fran's way and quipped, "Nobody knows men like Fran does." It seemed to be only funny to Balthier, but he didn't care enough about that to enjoy it any less.

As much as she wanted to protest, she couldn't bring herself to disagree with Fran. The older viera knew so much that was beyond young Riley. But this time, how in the world could Fran be right? …She couldn't. The kid sounded nice, but…ugh. Ok. At least she'd rather have Penelo be with the kid than his "cortege." The Judge and the others were proven enemies. Larsa's evilness was apparently not assured yet. So Riley actually remained silent.

"Our purposes lead the same way: toward Ondore. We must find means to approach him," Basch said. He started walking, so everybody else did too. As Balthier talked something about money channels against the Empire, Riley's thoughts drifted away from the kid weasel and back to Basch's comment. Their purposes…How long would that be the wind under the wings of the _Strahl? _

.~*~.

"He's been gone forever already." The sun beat down on her uncovered head, stinging her ears with heat, filling Lhusu Square with dusty-brown sunlight. Riley squinted past the light, shielding her eyes with a hand. The lack of her hat had its disadvantages, too. "He oughta be back by now." As soon as she'd said it, Riley cursed herself, wishing she could snatch the words out of the air. Really? She was complaining about waiting too long? Would that it were longer. It only occurred to her now that she should have gone with Vaan to spread the word about Basch being alive. There was more of a chance to attract the attention of the underground members of the resistance. Too bad her abilities couldn't tell her who or where the resistance leaders were, but it wasn't like onmipresence. The walls and streets could only tell her what they saw.

Anyway. If the resistance members in Bhujerba were as well-informed as Basch said they were, they would hear Vaan's rumors soon enough, and that will get them a meeting with the leaders. Then, those guys could get them a meeting with the Marquis. It was a lot of trouble to go through, but a brilliant idea.

Basch was leaning against the wall she was sitting on—which was only about the height of the captain's shoulders. He followed her gaze to the square's exiting street, wherein there was a distinct lack of Vaan. "It shouldn't be long," he assured. Rumors usually travel fast in this town-especially, he would think, rumors like the ones Vaan was out spreading.

Riley glanced at him dully. Randomly she rested her elbow on the top of Basch's head and shifted her weight so that she reclined comfortably, using him as a prop.

"Wh-what…." Basch stammered, unsure what kind of situation he was in, or what the heck to do about it. It was hilarious; she knew it would be. "Ah—Riley…"

"Don' worry 'bout it. Just chill and don't move."

"Uh…"

Riley waved a hand casually, motioning to something across the square. "Hey how much do you think he'll get for everything?"

Across the square, a merchant seeq sat like a jiggly old lump on his blanket on the ground, potion bottles and antidotes set out in groups on the rug, surrounded be a couple miners, a moogle or two, and Balthier. The pirate was busy selling off the loot they'd collected in the mines. They were going back and forth like hens in a coop.

"With a sharp tongue he will draw out the most gil possible," Fran assured, walking up to join them. "The merchant's mind is simple, and Balthier's quick."

Riley grunted, not sure if she liked that about him or not. But then Basch said, "Then we are lucky to have him. We need as much gil as we can get."

"How come, do we not have money?"

"We have…little."

Riley turned to Fran. "I thought you guys were rich?"

"On a budget designed for two."

Awkward. Riley shut up. She shifted back to sitting upright, since she was probably breaking Basch's neck by now, and kept watching Balthier just because nothing else was going on. Back in Rabanastre, people-watching was about the only kind of thing there was to do for homeless people, when you weren't stealing. But it was boring there since nearly everyone else was homeless, so everyone else just sat around and watched people too. There were very few hobos in Bhujerba. Maybe it was that, or the lack of Imperials, or the fact that it literally _flew_, but the whole place seemed free. Separate and all. It was attractive. But she doubted she'd find rivers and trees.

Finally, Balthier turned away from the merchant, raising a couple fingers in a wave. He joined the others on the other side of the square. "Nearabouts eight hundred gil. A fair amount, though we could have done better."

"What!" Riley's mouth hung open. "That's more gil than I've ever seen in one place and you're complaining!"

Balthier issued a half-sigh and ignored her as he counted out the gil, splitting it into three portions. He gave parts to himself, Fran, and Basch. Seeing this, Riley glared at him. She shoved an open hand his way, palm-up, staring a challenge.

Balthier swatted her hand away. "No gil for the orphans."

"…Why!"

"As you seem to keep forgetting, I am a pirate. We tend to be disinclined towards charity."

Riley growled and glared even harder, but Balthier's eyes were on the gil in his pouch, apparently recounting it. What good could that do? Withholding money from them? What was she gonna do, spend it all? …Well she couldn't be sure she wouldn't. Or maybe it was a way to keep her around. If she can't provide for herself…ahh. Well. That was a dirty tactic. And clever; very pirate. But…then why not give Vaan the money? He kept Riley around cause he needed to, but he didn't need Vaan around. …What the heck.

"You…" she stopped, shaking her head. "What the heck. You make no sense you know?"

"Where is Vaan?" Balthier asked, apparently directed towards her since he looked right at her.

"How should I know?"

The pirate raised an eyebrow, glaring dully. It took her a while to get it. Riley facepalmed with a groan. "Kay hangon," she muttered. Her eyes half-closed, rays of yellow light shone from behind her lids. A silent moment passed…and Riley's brow furrowed. Fran stepped forward silently, staring with suspicion at Riley's eyes.

Suddenly, Riley gasped, her eyes snapping wide open. The yellow light faded. She glanced around uneasily from face to face, until finally she sputtered, "C-Cloud…Cloudbear!"

"Cloudborne," Basch put in.

Riley pointed at him. "That's the one! And it's like…somethin's wrong." She turned a worried gaze to Balthier. "A bunch of guys took him there. Most of them looked like…uh—him." They all followed her point to see one of the city guides, who was standing by the merchant in the corner.

"I see no reason for the Sainikah to bear a threat," Basch put in.

"Neither do I. But," Balthier drawled, turning away, "he is late." The pirate stalked off toward the square's exiting street, his normally lazy pace quickening.

.~*~.

"**I walk a lonely road, **

**The only road that I have ever known."**

It was Balthier that led them to the tavern, he that silvertounged their way past security and patrons, and he that discovered the entrance to the hidden back room. Through the dark hallway they now walked, she looked to his back to know where to follow. Riley was beginning to understand how he could call himself the leading man.

Except in plays and all, usually other characters set everything up for the main guy, and carried him through. Which was, at this moment, exactly what he was doing for everyone else. This thing with the resistance was Basch's story. Balthier was here riding the coattails—only he had to wear the coat, too.

So did that mean it was all his story? …What the heck. This was confusing. Hey look, a light!

They emerged into the low-lit room with Balthier leading, in time to hear the trailing edge of the conversation. A guy in a chair, apparently the top weasel around here, sat at the end of a table with a fuzzy-headed chick hanging off his elbow, and about twenty other thugs loitering around looking mean. Vaan was in the middle, surrounded, being pressed and threatened by Top Weasel Guy.

"An explanation is due, and I will hear it. The Empire's hounds grow passing bold indeed."

Wasting no time, Balthier used the surprise element before it was lost. "A shame if they learned the Marquis trafficked with the likes of you." He strode into the room, drawing all the bad attention away from Vaan and onto himself. Riley used the distraction to slip quickly up to Vaan, grabbing his arm.

"You ok?" she whispered, and Vaan nodded. But he seemed more distracted with staring at Balthier, who he apparently was surprised to see.

He'd come again, just like Nalbina, and he wasn't afraid of anything he'd come to. Charged right in headfirst. Vaan stared at the pirate as he rambled on: challenging, bold, and deriding. "Agents masquerading as guides, a hideout at the back of a tavern…not exactly earning high marks for originality are we?"

"Now you've done it…" a gravelly voice snarled. Even as the giant bangaa thug advanced on him, Balthier backed down not an inch, even coming a step forward. Vaan jolted forward, teeth gritted in a silent growl, as Riley unconsciously held him back by the arm.

"Wait!"

The bangaa stopped at his leader's voice. Riley breathed with relief as Basch stepped in, defusing the tension and saving the pirate's stupid hide. All their hides, apparently, for the man in the chair looked at the Captain and smiled.

"So Basch fon Rosenberg does yet live."

Riley squeaked quietly in the process of sighing her relief, her hands falling from Vaan's arm. She smiled softly at the Captain, who had saved them. In his stoic eyes it was written: he always would.

In the background, behind Captain Ronsenberg, Balthier turned away from Vaan's stare.

.~*~.

"**Together we stand.**

**Before it's too late, this could all disappear.**

**Before the doors close, and it comes to an end,**

**With you by my side I will fight and defend."**

"It figures he's too busy for us," Vaan grumbled, plopping into the cushioned bench that lined the curved wall. He threw a hand behind his head and leaned back, taking a bite of a fruit he'd taken from the plate on the gigantic coffee table in front of him. The circular room was centered around that table, with the furniture colored in tones of soft blue, grey, and white. One portion of wall was window from floor to ceiling, which Riley scampered to immediately. Hands pressed against the glass, she looked out across the magnificent landscape, a small sound of wonder escaping her.

"A busy schedule doesn't always connect with arrogance," the Captain's deep voice answered. He didn't sit down, but stood next to him. He was only glad that the resistance members had been able to arrange this meeting for them.

Vaan only shrugged, lips pursing with aggravation. He didn't want to care whether the Marquis was good or not, just if he could get him to Penelo. After all this time, she probably thought he wasn't coming for her by now. And who knows what she'd have to go through with the Imperials…Vayne's brother no less.

"I dunno," he muttered, taking another bite of his lemon-star fruit thing. "I just want to get Penelo and get back to Rabanastre."

Across the room, Riley's ears perked up.

"I can't say I disagree," Balthier added. He had taken a seat beside Fran on the couch, leaning back casually while the viera crossed her legs, chin in her palm, elbow propped on her knee. "This whole ordeal is turning out to be far more than I care to involve myself in for one small treasure."

"_My_ treasure that I rightly found."

"And rightly stole from us," Balthier grumbled.

Vaan glared and came right back at him, "First come first serve; I stole it from the palace! I can't help it if you're slow. You're getting it back anyway!"

The pirate gave his sharp exhale of annoyance, brow knitting. "At much expense of _time_ and _effort_. Fran and I could have died seven times over in that bloody mine."

"I, too, wish to be gone from this place." Basch interrupted, diffusing the argument. "The sooner I talk to the Marquis, the sooner I can return Amalia to freedom, and the Resistance." Fran glanced up at him, silently thanking him for saving her another migraine.

From off to the side, Riley released a frustrated cry, somewhere between a growl and yelp. Sounded just like a dog or something. "Is that all you people do is complain?" she snapped, glaring at them over her shoulder. "Shut up and enjoy the excitement."

Turning back to the window, her eyes slowly began to drain of anger. "…I like it here," she said softly, barely above a whisper.

"Yes…Bhujerba is a beautiful city," came the reply—Basch's voice. "It's only that now, each of us belongs somewhere else."

Riley didn't answer for a moment. Silently, she smiled, but bitterly. Then it faded into a real smile, just a hint at the corners of her mouth, as she stared out at Bhujerba's beauty from stories above its ground. "Not Bhujerba," she replied at length, her voice quiet and pretty like a child's. "I like this room. Right now, only right now, this room I like even more than the city."

They were all staring at her by now, and ordinarily she didn't care at all if people stared, but awkward had intruded on the atmosphere. Riley glanced at them, eyes darting from each face…she noted that Balthier wasn't staring at her, but concentrating very deeply on his own clasped hands. Her eyes met Vaan's, and then she turned back to the window silently, trying to shrug off some attention.

She glanced up when someone stepped up beside her. She glanced over at Vaan, but he pointedly didn't look at her. He was deliberately looking out at the view with only content admiration on his eyes. Riley smiled, thankful, and looked out the window too.

The hour breathed faint and low. Likely this, or in the Marquis's office, was the last time they'd be together in one place. This new task was the last they had holding the group together and it wouldn't be long in getting done.

Most chance encounters were this fleeting. Couldn't it last though? Shouldn't there be a way to hold together even after necessity has gone? Basch's work was important, she knew, and he had things he must do. Vaan had Penelo and Rabanastre and Migelo's Sundries. The pirates just avoided attachment—and ok, she wouldn't have them stop traveling. And if she could weasel herself something like a piracy internship, well that was amazing news for her. But the work that had been started among them all will be lost in any way, and it won't even matter that for a few hours they had all been comrades.

Riley's ears perked up. She turned away from the window and toward the doors. As is on cue, they opened unto one of the guards, who announced in a weird Bhujerba accent, "The Marquis will see you now."

Vaan looked at her again, offering a smile for her to lean on. Then, tapping her shoulder, he turned to follow the pirates and Basch.

Riley took a deep breath. 'One last task,' her thoughts echoed as her feet followed shakily behind Vaan. 'One small chance, winds of fate. Blow in my direction.'

.~*~.

"**Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.**

**Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.**

**It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right.**

**I hope you have the time of your life."**

The Marquis looked the part of any leader. Well-dressed, old, seated on a high-backed chair behind a large desk. Weird desk; triangular. The rest of the room was colored blue and black and grey; it seemed more like they were in an airship. Marble columns stood at the corners and the windows, which stretched from the back of the room to the front on the left and right walls, were bordered by carved stone. There was a fantastic statue of what looked like a griffin in the center of the room, facing the point of the desk.

The Marquis set his arms on the desktop, fingers laced together. "So Basch fon Ronsenberg," he began, in an accent so thick she couldn't hear what kind of tone he used. "It was not so very long ago that I announced you had been executed."

"And that is the very reason I draw breath." Basch's reply seemed curt and unfriendly, though Riley didn't know why. She filtered in behind everyone, standing beside Vaan, and watched intently.

The Marquis leaned forward in his giant chair, shaking his head wearily. "So you are the sword he's strung above my head. Vayne has left not a thing to chance."

Now what the heck did that mean? What did Vayne have to do with anything? Riley glanced at Vaan, but he was watching—and she doubted he'd know anyway.

"And…?" The Marquis prompted.

Basch got right to the point. "A leader of the resistance has fallen into Imperial hands. A woman by the name of Amalia. I would rescue her, but I need your help."

The Marquis took his hands down from the table. It looked like he really wanted to be anywhere but here. "This resistance leader—this 'Amalia.' She must be very important."

At that, Basch simply bowed, one arm diagonal across his chest, looking so gentle and noble that Riley couldn't supress a smile. But the Marquis apparently didn't see the man's humbleness, or saw something else that overshadowed it. He stood from the chair, taking up a cane, as he said, "You understand I've my position to consider."

Riley wanted to like him. He looked like a good Marquis, and by all that she'd heard (and eavesdropped), he seemed to be doing the best he could to keep his city free. He seemed cold now, though, and old and tired. It was probably because of his constant struggle against the Empire. So Riley found she couldn't blame him too much. Behind her, Fran turned to Balthier and remarked something, but even with her ears, Riley didn't hear it clearly enough to make out words. She hadn't been paying attention.

Vaan began to understand that the conversation would only quicken from here on. He'd have to cut in now if he was gonna get a chance at all to make his request. He stepped forward and interjected, "Would you let us see Larsa? He's got my friend with him." To his credit, Vaan sounded extremely polite and hardly demanding at all. Riley bit her lip, glaring at the back of his dumb blonde head. The Marquis turned slowly to Vaan, staring him down, and Riley winced as she drew closer to Fran.

But the Marquis answered, and no new anger joined his voice. "I'm afraid you're too late." He grasped his cane with both hands as he turned towards Vaan. "Lord Larsa's cortege has already rejoined the Imperial detachment. I am told they will depart for Rabanastre upon the arrival of the fleet this eventide." Riley's eyes widened. It _was_ eventide. Her ears twitched…she closed her eyes. Far above, the rooftop view spoke of many ominous forms pressing its shadow down upon the towers.

Vaan exhaled with frustration. He started to turn away, but at the last minute remembered to nod to the Marquis and mutter, "Thanks." Then he spun away and fast-walked back toward the door. Riley watched him with wide, scared eyes, her gaze flicking to Basch, who he'd ran right past without a look or a word... "A-are we leaving?" she squeaked timidly. She looked back to Vaan and half-expected him to be gone; she twitched in preparation to run out after him.

But no…Balthier had saved the day. Vaan ran right into the pirate's outstretched arm, nearly getting clotheslined. Angrily, he tried pushing him aside. Balthier's hand was on his shoulder, trying to both calm him and restrain him. "What're we waiting for!" Vaan protested, looking over his shoulder to Basch.

"_You_ to calm down," Balthier answered calmly.

"Captain Ronsenberg…"

Basch looked up, an edge to his eyes, brought about by the Marquis's suddenly darker tone. His worry went immediately for his cause; would he refuse? Without the Marquis's help, his options were weak and few.

Clasping his cane in both hands, the Bhujerban leader continued, "Surely the exigencies of position are not lost on you."

What was he getting at? Basch held his ground, ignoring the hollow feeling as his hopes sank. He would refuse…

"Why, indeed, you should find the enemy's chains—" Basch's eyes widened. More than refuse. "—an easy burden to bear."

Basch's stare darkened as he locked eyes with the traitorous Marquis. Aside from his accusation towards the old man, Basch thought of his own task. He could not be captured. Amalia's freedom depended on his. Capture was not an option. Basch steeled his gaze, a decision clearly being made behind his eyes.

"Wait!" a voice from behind protested. Balthier stepped toward him, hand outstretched.

A moment of tension—then Basch turned to the man, the smallest hint of a helpless smile on his lips. "Sorry… Can't be helped."

He snapped his gaze back to the Marquis and, in a quick and fluid motion, drew his sword.

"Summon the guard!"

.~*~.

"What!" Riley looked from person to person, whirling around frantically. "_What!_" Guards spilled in from the hallway, charging toward the pirates and Vaan, who were closest. Basch started toward them, but he was far away… Riley's feet were suddenly running toward him and the clash of armored footsteps reverberated right at her heels. It completely filled her ears and mind…her instincts.

A confused "huh…?" was all Vaan had a chance to say, before a soldier barreled into him, nearly knocking him from his feet. The soldier snatched his wrists and twisted his arms behind him; Vaan struggled harshly and managed to hurt himself; he gasped in pain and yelled. Balthier was wiser. As much as he hated being shoved around, he knew there was no way out. He offered no resistance, and neither did Fran.

Riley suddenly found herself surrounded, the soldiers rushing around her like a metallic river. Armored hands seized her. Breath eluded her; her heart beat in her ears like a frantic drum. She struggled, and thrashed and cried out, but they had her. Riley's gasping breath began to sound more like deep growls. With pupils dilating, she snapped her gaze upward, feeling a feral storm building inside her. _A beast…_

But then, among the chaos, she caught sight of Fran, who was walking calmly along with her arms held behind her back, not even being pushed. Riley's fury slowly drained away.

Somewhere in the tumult, Basch must have been taken, because The Marquis's voice announced, "They are to be taken to Judge Ghis."

Riley was turned around and pushed forward, as well as the others. She looked desperately, furiously at the Marquis as they passed, but the man's empty gaze was focused on the air above their heads.

.~*~.

The absurd thought that entered her mind was that at least now, they would be together longer. This was her twist of fate to keep them all in the journey. As they were led, shackled and chained, to a giant metal room that must be a ship hangar, Riley found that she wasn't as scared as she figured she should be. And she was, of course. She remembered all too well the feel of imprisonment, and it cut her in deep places of terror to think that she may go back. Her promises and her family's sacrifice were on the line. But every time the guards shoved her, or the shackles cut into her wrists, she need only glance at one of her companions. She wasn't alone. And these people, above all, she knew were not ones to accept imprisonment.

Giant doors opened before them, assaulting them with the bright sunlight of the morning. When had the sun risen? They were apparently right up next to the freakin sky, where about sixty thousand Imperial ships were zipping around like flies. Riley hesitated, but kept walking. She tried her best to stay in the center of her companions' cluster, but then they were led onto a loading platform and were forced to go single-file. They were a chain gang. She was third in line behind Vaan and in front of Basch—and that made it bearable.

Instead of going up, the weird elevator thing took them down. Riley stumbled with a gasp, catching herself on the rail. Behind her back, Balthier rolled his eyes, sparing a moment to consider how funny the sight of her clutching the railing was. But then, of course, he went right back to trying to plot a way out of their impossible situation. Likely that's what his partner—and Basch were doing, too.

They descended into a shuttle, and finally the platform stopped moving. Everyone began to move away, but the line was held up by Riley, who still hadn't let go of the rail. Luckily a friendly Imperial there was there to pry her lose and shove her along. Riley turned around to growl at him, a threatening snarl on her lips.

But she stopped short. Was that...was he…

The soldier had to have been aboard the shuttle, because he wore different clothes, little armor, and no helmet. He was tall, somewhere into his thirties, with black hair and a broad, angry face. And…ears. Short, furry, black ears that sat rigid and upright on top of his military haircut.

Gaping, Riley backed away as the half-viera soldier stepped forward, towering over her. She looked into his eyes and saw no remorse, no connection…only accusation. And triumph.

A smug grin curled his lips as he crossed his arms. "Freedom didn't last long, did it kid?"

.~*~.

* * *

**A/N** : o0o Whaaaat? Another half-viera! And he's _evil!_ Muahah indeed... I had to leave you with _some_ kind of a cliffhanger, after all.

As for the rest of it, sorry if it's boring. It should be. Not much goes on that's too different from the actual game's plot, but I will make it up to you in the next chapter by deviating a bit.

Yes I did make up the word "nearabouts."

**Lyric headings:** "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day, "Keep Holding On" by Avril Lavigne, and "Time of Your Life" also by Green Day.


	8. Trust In Serendipity

"**Hello my friend, we meet again. **

**It's been a while, where should we begin?**

**Feels like forever."**

She barely believed it. Not his appearance—that wasn't the amazing part. What Riley marveled at was the look in his eyes. Her wide eyes stared in disbelief into his accusing sneer. As the half-viera soldier—wasn't that a weird collection of words?—advanced on her, she stumbled back as far as she could, until she hit the railing of the platform and was forced to stop, leaning away from the dark tower of a man.

"It didn't. It couldn't," he answered himself, his voice laced with angry pain. "And look where you are now…"

Bewildered, Riley could only whimper in reply.

Advancing another step, he continued, "Look what your cowardice has earned you…and my loyalty earned me."

Suddenly, the terror in Riley's eyes lost light. She saw something else in his eyes. Deeply buried behind the triumph and hate, there was…betrayal. And he actually looked different now that she looked closely. He wasn't old. Maybe in his early twenties. There was a very old scar on his cheek…a burn shaped like two perfect squares. "Cattle-prod" popped into her head.

Randomly, the man released a snarl and slammed his fist down on the railing, jolting her so that she shrieked in terror. "If you'd just stayed! I could have—!" He broke off suddenly.

Then, she was being pulled by the arm, letting out a surprised yip as she was spun away from the man. Next thing she knew, she was tucked safely away behind Basch, with Vaan next to her, and the pirates behind.

The halfbreed's turmoil subsided into a cold face of stone. He stepped back and stood against the wall, staring at the captain, as the platform lifted up and out of the shuttle. The roof closed behind it.

Basch turned away, pushing Riley further into the shuttle and away from the dark-headed man. Stumbling along, she never once took her eyes off the soldier. Unless she was trippin out, the guy looked familiar. It was the set of his eyes, and the way his jawline went… She remembered something. Her mother's first mate had a cleft in his chin, but it was crooked to the left side. Riley's gaze snapped to the soldier's jaw.

The shuttle began to take off, masking the sound of Riley's stunned gasp.

"Who is he?" came a very light whisper, little more than a breath, right above her right ear. Turning, Riley saw Fran, but the woman was leaning against the wall and staring out above the heads of the personnel manning the ship. Riley immediately turned her gaze away too. She knew, with their ears, only Fran and herself could hear this conversation.

"My…half-brother," she breathed, her tongue numb around the words. "J…Jon. Jonathan…"

Fran chanced a glance down at the girl. Riley's eyes weren't glowing at all.

.~*~.

"**Hate me in ways…ways hard to swallow.**

**Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you."**

So, the ship. Magnificent and all. Gigantic. Some places looked futuristic and alien. They were lead single-file, surrounded by guards, through the Dreadnought Leviathan, the others were probably getting a good view of the place. But Riley didn't see much of it—she was staring at her hands or feet most of the way. All she could seem to envision was Jon's furious, grown-up face…his accusing, pain-filled eyes.

Her eldest brother hated her. Worse. He had a perfect reason. Through her confusion and shock, Riley couldn't help wishing he would've said whatever it was he'd started to, because there was no way she could ever make peace with "I could have..."

Whatever he could have done or been was lost now. By some wild feat of mystery, Jonathan, the oldest of the litter and Allan's best friend, had risen out of the abuse and kinship to be…a soldier. He was a loyal servant of the military. His voice, once a sound like a summer rainstorm, was now nothing but rough. How, in a million years, could it have happened? Jon wasn't that kind of material. He didn't switch to the enemy's side. He was like Al that way.

Wait. Like…like Al?

Riley's gaze snapped up from the floor, her eyes wider than they'd ever been. Tears gathered and trailed down her cheeks. If…If Jon could turn into something like that…was it even _possible_…Allan could?

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't think of anything else after that.

They stopped before a pair of giant doors. As they slid open, a gigantic circular room was revealed. Two rows of window made up the front wall, and what must be control panels lined the walls. This was probably the cockpit. Or whatever it was called on this giant ship. …The bridge, Riley thought. Yeah that's the one. Vaan told her once.

"The prisoners, my lord."

She had to be shoved, because she wouldn't move. She stumbled, nearly fell. A shout flew from her throat as she lunged for the soldier who'd pushed her, held back by her chains, which were attached to both Vaan's and Basch's shackles. As quickly as it had come, the ferocity vanished, and she was shoved backward into Vaan, nearly knocking them both down. She heard him cry some kind of protest as they both gained their feet. Again, they were prodded into walking.

In the center of the room stood a woman, who, upon seeing them, immediately locked eyes on Basch. He stepped out in front, divine relief washing over his face. The woman stalked forward.

"Majesty…" Basch breathed, elated beyond belief.

In an instant, her hand flew forward, smacking him across the face. She just as well might have shoved her sword through his soul.

"After what you've done!" She shouted, spitting fire at his face. "How _dare_ you!"

A fierce snarl ripped through the air as Riley lunged forward, set for the young woman. Her face consumed with dark savagery, she struggled in vain as a guard stopped her by yanking back on her chains.

A hand was placed on her shoulder; she nearly sank her teeth into it. She spun around, eyes darting frantically until they locked on Balthier. "Easy," warned the voice of gold. Riley's breathing slowed; the dilated pupils of her eyes returned to normal. She was left staring blankly at Balthier, whose only answer was the silent gaze of a guardian.

Beside her, Vaan glanced frightfully between Basch and the young woman. Amalia didn't get that Basch was innocent, and he couldn't blame her because he didn't at first either…but…_Basch_. Until now, it hadn't struck Vaan just how horrible it was for him, how painful to be falsely labeled a traitor. Not to mention that Basch had gone through all this to _save_ Amalia. And she wasn't about to listen to reason, it seemed.

Venom dripping from her tongue, she accused, "You're supposed to be dead."

Basch slowly turned toward her, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. Her words wounded like the slice of a blade, as words from no other could. Scorn from her, the one whose life and cause he had served and sworn to, for reasons he didn't deserve. But he said nothing. Though it hurt, though she was wrong, his gaze showed none of that. Basch stared at her in silence—with the gaze of a guardian.

"Come now, come now," said a snobby voice. "Have you forgotten your manners?"

An overgrown bronze-painted tin can with legs appeared to be walking towards them. Judge Ghis stopped behind Amalia, announcing with thick sarcasm, "This is hardly the courtesy due…the late Princess Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca."

Vaan took a step forward, incredulously blurting, "_Princess?_"

"To be sure," Ghis went on, obviously delighting in himself far too much. "She bears no proof of her former station—no different than any mean member of the Insurgence."

"The Resistance." As the Judge paced around her, Ashelia held her head high and kept her gaze straight ahead.

The judge rambled on, drawing Riley ever closer to the point she was sure her head would explode. "His excellency the Consul asks the ministry of the disthroned royal family in restoring peace to Dalmasca. Those who foster instability and unrest—who claim royal blood without proof…they shall meet their fate at the gallows."

Basch's eyes widened.

"There are no exceptions."

.~*~.

"I will not play puppet to Vayne!" Ashelia snapped, turning on him. She stared him down, her eyes the essence of defiance.

In the silence that followed, Basch knew he had to speak. Head bowed, he gritted his teeth and tried to let go of his anger; it wasn't the time for it now. He had already accepted that pain would come, and that the princess may hate him. It wasn't her fault, not entirely, and he still must save her. "King Raminas entrusted me with a task."

Ashe looked his way, as did the Judge and…eh everyone else. Basch raised his head and spoke to fulfill his duty. "Should the time come, he bade me give you something of great importance." Here, he finally was able to look directly at Ashe. "It is your birthright—the Dusk Shard."

To Ghis, he said, "It will warrant the quality of her blood. Only I know where to find it."

"Wait," Ashelia snapped. Riley growled, and felt Balthier's hand on her shoulder again.

"You took my father's life—why spare mine now?" Ashe took a step back, eyes widening incredulously. "You would have me live in shame!"

Basch's voice was like a father's scold. "If that is your duty, yes."

Disarmed, Ashe's breath left her in a heated puff. How was she supposed to respond to that? …Traitors did not care for duty. He mocked her.

"Stop being so stubborn!" a new voice joined. Vaan was finally unable to hold his silence. He couldn't believe how incredibly _stupid_ this chick was. "Keep on like this and you're gonna get us all killed!"

"Don't interrupt!" she replied, like an angry wife at her husband.

"He can interrupt all he wants when he's _right_," Riley snarled, stepping up beside him. But then, she was distracted, as everyone else was. Both she and Vaan looked down, their attention on his pocket. It was glowing, and making weird…glowy sounds.

"Wh-what?" he muttered, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out an orange-and-black stone. Riley recognized it as the stolen treasure—Balthier's bribe. It was pulsating with light.

"Vaan—that stone…" Basch interjected.

"I-it was in the palace treasure…"

"Well well…Splendid! You've brought the stone with you!" A jovial voice in a tin can laughed. Ghis was no doubt sneering behind that dumb helmet. "This saves us a great deal of trouble." He came forward and reached for the stone, causing Ashe to lunge forward.

"Don't give it to him!" she pleaded, soldiers holding her back.

Vaan drew back, hesitating. "U-uh…" He glanced back at Balthier. With a shrug, the pirate made a sour face, grunting in a helpless, reluctant tone. No choice. He gestured for Vaan to hand it over. Beside him, Fran nodded.

Vaan looked back at Ghis, then to Ashelia, whose eyes pleaded with him. "You have to promise," Vaan said, turning back to the judge, "no executions."

He held out his hand, letting Judge Ghis take the stone.

Ghis held up the stone, examining it with a smirk behind his helmet. "A judge's duty is to the law," he drawled with a sneer in his voice. They all knew what that meant. No promise. Ghis turned his back and headed back toward the control panels. "Take them away."

"M'lord."

"Lady Ashe is to be quartered separately. Oh—" he added as an afterthought, "take that one back to her kin."

Riley's eyes widened to the size of saucers. He was looking straight at her.

"They will have missed her." Ghis turned his back again, cutting off the conversation, and sealing the orders.

"H-huh?" Riley muttered, backing up as two soldiers reached for her. "_What!"_

"What? No, wait!" Vaan shouted angrily, the guards already ushering him out.

Before she could begin to think, the soldiers managed to undo her shackles, separating her from the others. Riley's feet were working in an instant—she took off as if shot from a cannon, getting past three guards before the fourth and fifth caught her. Screaming and thrashing, she was lifted from the floor by armored hands.

"Basch, don't let them! Vaan! NO!" Riley shrieked, struggling ferociously. In the next instant, she was slammed to the ground, silenced. Her arms were twisted behind her back. She tore one hand free and reached out for her companions, who were being pushed out the door by the remaining guards. "_NO!_" Her free hand clawing at the floor, she tried to get up, but a very heavy man's knee was planted in the square of her back. Desperate tears spilled from her eyes.

Just about everyone was looking back at her, but half of them were already out the door. She managed to catch one set of hazel eyes as the last person in line glanced back, hesitant and helpless.

"_BALTHIER!_"

The doors slid shut.

.~*~.

**And if I asked you, would you stop me from falling?**

**Would you save me?**

**Would you save me?**

All that time she'd thought she'd been escaping his notice, everyone's notice. Someone so full of authority and position and all shouldn't take notice of someone was low-ranked as her. Nope. Ghis noticed. That weasel…that sickening slime-covered beast. She hated that overgrown bucket.

The shackles on her wrists were tighter now, and were attached to a chain that the guards used as a leash. With every step, control was harder to maintain. She couldn't look over at her friends when she needed comfort. She was alone…alone in chains, and being led to a place she absolutely didn't want to go. Her kin would hate her. She was sure of it. Allan was a soldier now and he hated her. Her mother was dead or something from her life of forced sex and pregnancy. And Riley would be put into the barracks and become a tool of hatred just like Jon and Allan and everyone else. Or she would become a breeder like her mom, and supply the Imperials with more live weapons until it tore her body apart...

Riley felt her feral instincts rising within her. She gritted her teeth, pupils dilating, as her breathing slowly quickened. It was a quality borne by almost all halfbreeds. The cross-breeding had not produced a cool-headed and calculating hume, as was Draklor's intention, but rather created the opposite: an irrational and violent viera. But they'd apparently found a way to control the new, volatile mixture. Jon was proof.

At that thought, Riley's eyes returned to normal almost instantly. They could control her. If they'd found a way to manipulate Jonathan into a loyal soldier, Riley didn't stand a chance to resist.

A sob rose in her throat, but she bit it back. Like heck she was gonna cry in front of them. Her tears had dried, and as long as she didn't think of what awaited her, they wouldn't come back. Vaan…if anyone, Vaan wouldn't let it happen. But…but he didn't know…he didn't know the danger she was in. He didn't know they'd send her to Draklor. No doubt he would make them search for her eventually, but by the time that happened, she'd be off the ship already. The only one who knew about Draklor was…

Oh no. Oh sweet Dalmascan lights. Her fate rested in the hands of _Balthier! _Riley groaned, hanging her head. She was dead. That pompous load of chocobo crap wouldn't save her.

They led her through metal corridors and loading docks until they got to a gigantic room, whose only purpose seemed to be holding the entrance to a small hallway. Two Judges guarded it, and several other regular soldiers stood around too. Her captors pushed her down said hall. There were cells lined up on either side, with horizontal bars in place of doors. In one cell she saw a moogle on a rug, and another housed a blue healing crystal. That was weird. Why would they need one of those where the prisoners were kept?

They stopped at an empty cell and the bars slid open. An armored hand shoved her inside. The bars closed again right after.

Riley spun around to scowl at the guards. "Hangon! You're not even gonna take these off?" She raised her hands, which were still shackled, the attached chain dragging the floor.

"No sense doing that. We'll just have to put 'em back on in twenty minutes."

They left laughing, and Riley stood there with her arms outstretched, trembling in terror. Twenty minutes…They couldn't get to her in just twenty minutes! No…no…

NO!

Snarls ripped through the air, and the sound of Riley slamming herself against the bars again and again, yowling like an animal. Not even the heavy shackles would break through. She pounded the bars again and again, shackles cutting her wrists, the chain flying up to whip her every time. She kept it up until it was just too much to keep doing and she collapsed, exhausted, against the bars. She sank to her knees, trying to keep her furious sobbing silent.

She'd sworn. Allan should hate her now, but he hadn't hated her when she'd made him that promise to stay free. She'd broken the second oath…the most important.

Riley curled up into a crying, shaking ball, clawing at her face with her shackled hands. "Balthier…_please_…" she whispered between gasping for breath. "I'll do whatever you want…I'll even leave…"

"_Just come for me you idiot!"  
_

.~*~.

"**Don't push me; I'll fight it.**

**Never gonna give it up, no.**

**You can't take me."**

Vaan dragged his feet miserably, seething at the world. He couldn't believe the trouble he'd gotten into. Where were they all gonna end up? Prison forever? Where would Riley go? Penelo? This was not what he'd planned. Nothing went as he planned since the minute he'd started to get adventurous. He glanced around at the guards, at his companion, but could see no way out.

He glanced up as he realized Basch was walking beside him. "So, you were carrying it all along," he muttered, and his tone carried the same bitterness Vaan felt. "The fates jest."

Vaan released an aggravated sigh. He didn't like that; that was like making it his fault or something. It wasn't his fault.

"Tell these fates of yours to leave me out," Balthier's drawl came from behind them.

"Keep quiet!" one of the soldiers yelled, silencing them for a second or two.

Ignoring the stupid guard, Basch answered, "There was nothing else that I could do. You know that."

"Oh I understand," Balthier groaned. "Honor, duty and all that." The group came to a stop, having reached their destination—the same loading platform the shuttle had brought them to. "I still can't believe that was the princess…"

The soldier was shouting over him, "I said keep quiet!" but Balthier finished his sentence. That didn't make mister soldier too happy at all. He drew back his arm, raising his lance over Balthier's head.

As quick as lightning, Balthier stepped to the side, grabbing the lance's shaft. At the exact same time, Basch raised his arms and prepared to strike. As Balthier pulled the soldier off-balance, Basch slammed his heavy shackles down on the back of the guy's neck, sending him crashing to the ground. Balthier glanced at the captain and tossed him a wry grin.

"Huh!" The second soldier spun around, lunging for the two rebels, but before he could even make it one step, a high-heeled boot was planted in his back, sending him to join his friend on the floor. Behind him, Fran lowered her leg with a stamp of her foot, turning up her nose as she glared down at the guard.

A gasp drew their attention and they spun around, Balthier holding his stolen lance at the ready. But instead of an attacking Imperial, they saw another armored man, holding the last soldier up by his throat in mid-air. He threw the soldier away easily and then stepped back, reaching for his helmet.

Balthier didn't recognize the man, or didn't care. He couldn't take chances at all or they'd lose this one shot at escape. He lunged for the man, lance leading.

Basch stopped him by grabbing the weapon. Balthier glanced at him questionatively, and as a reply, Basch stepped forward and addressed the newcomer. "The Marquis has been busy."

"Not lightly did I beg his aid," Vossler answered. He came forward to meet him, undoing Basch's shackles as he talked. "Listen…it has been a full two years. I alone have kept her majesty safely hidden. I doubted friend and foe alike… I could trust no one."

Rubbing his sore wrists, Basch replied, "You did your duty." He looked up and straight at Vossler. "And mine for me."

Vossler nodded. "I'm getting her out; I need your help."

"Of course."

.~*~.

"**I'm doin just fine, always landing on my feet.**

**Something's watching over me, like**

**Sweet serendipity."**

The yellow light faded from Riley's eyes and she opened them wide. They'd gotten to the loading dock, but stopped. She had seen the soldiers' presence leave, and flashes of a fight. Basch and Balthier ganging up on a guard. Fran's feet shifting on the floor next to another Imperial. But just as she'd began to feel elation, she'd glimpsed another armored stranger walking towards them, his face not visible behind his helmet. The next sight, however, was of a pair of shackles falling to the floor.

She came out of the Mist's vision and her eyes looked again on the plain white prison cell, with its emptiness and bright white light. She breathed deeply and released a shaky sigh. Okay…maybe they were free now. That was a promising vision. They would come straight for Ashe—and Riley had forgotten to look, but probably Ashe was kept in a cell not far from hers. Hey…maybe she'd be alright.

But…twenty minutes. A short time. And it wasn't even definite; they might come sooner than that.

She curled up with her legs drawn up, arms lazily rested across her knees. There was a perfectly good bench hanging from the wall like a shelf. She ignored it and sat in the floor beside the cell's bars, her back against the wall. There was nothing to do but wait…she tried her best to keep from thinking anything.

Eventually, though, she ended up back in the fetal position, laying on the ground with her stringy red hair sticking to her tears. She had no idea how long she stayed like that—couldn't have been long—before she heard something. There were footsteps from outside.

Riley's ears twitched, her heart fluttering with panic. She heard a whoosh as the doors to the hall slid open, and armored boots clashed down the hall. Her eyes widened. They…they were here? Already!

Riley scowled in disgust as an Imperial soldier came into view. He looked down at her and chuckled, then crouched down next to her.

"Wanna talk about it?" he sneered, then broke into enraging, derisive laughter. He stood up and opened the bars, immediately snatching the chain attached to Riley's shackles. He dragged her to her feet and yanked the chain, pulling her forward.

Riley shrieked and resisted as expected, but in the end, she was pulled along by the cruel metal leash. No…this couldn't be happening; they weren't here yet! She just needed a few more minutes…no, NO!

Pulling her by the chain, the Imperial dragged her from the cell and down the hallway, out into the ship. She struggled the whole way, but every time he got aggravated enough, the soldier would raise his lance, cracking the handle end over the back of her head. Once or twice she got it to the face, bringing a stream of blood from her nose. After a couple hits she must have went a little foggy, because it was pretty hard to see things. She sort of forgot about trying to get away, but she kept moaning protests incoherently. She didn't really know why; she just felt like it ought to be the right thing to do in this situation. Whatever that was.

She was being pulled along through a long hallway when she heard more footsteps. The soldier stopped and Riley nearly ran into him—till he pushed her back and she fell to the ground.

"My lord," the Imperial greeted, sounding startled, though Riley couldn't hear very well, what with the whole semiconscious thing.

"You should not be—" He was cut off suddenly, a metallic clash followed, and then a large thud. Heavy breathing rasped in the silence that followed.

Someone kneeled beside her. "Are you alright?" a voice asked. It sounded mature, but it was high-pitched, so she couldn't tell if it was an adult. Maybe a woman? Riley sat up slowly, already growling her threats. But as she blinked away the haze, two faces came into view. The weird kid was the one kneeling beside her, and over his shoulder a familiar girl with blonde braids stared down at her with concern.

Larsa had already taken a potion from his bag. He raised both hands over her head, and Riley flinched when she saw his dagger—but all he did was use the handle to smash the potion bottle. The light green liquid spilled over her, soaking her head and shoulders. It felt like Cure, but quicker and warmer…like…liquid lightning. Gasping, she shook her head, her stringy hair whipping around her face.

"You...uh…th-thanks…" she sputtered, wiping away the potion and blood from her face. Suddenly a hand was held out to her, and Riley squinted up at Penelo. She took the hand, expecting to be pulled to her feet, but Penelo instead took hold of her shackles. Taking out a hairpin, she started picking the lock. When the shackles were off, Penelo gave a delighted laugh at her success, then helped pull Riley to her feet.

Riley locked awkward stares with the other girl, until finally she just cracked a grin, poking a finger at Penelo's shoulder. "Heh…I know somebody who's lookin for you."

Penelo made a small sound of surprise, blinking her wide eyes. "V-Vaan?"

Riley nodded, and Penelo's face lit up with a smile. "…But then, who—"

"This is Riley," Larsa interrupted. "Do not worry; she is a friend of Vaan's. And mine," he added, looking Riley straight in the face.

She scowled. Coldly, she muttered, "I was a friend of Lamont's. Dunno about you, _Solidor_."

Larsa's smile vanished. He accepted her scorn with a curt nod. "I do owe you an explanation, and I hope you can understand…But now is not the time. Judge Ghis is trying to recapture your friends; we must find them before he does."

Riley bit back her response. If he saved her, and Penelo, then he wasn't lying about saving the others. She waved a hand impatiently and waited for him to lead the way. But right as he started to run, Riley's face lit up in realization.

"Hold up!"

Larsa stopped and glanced at her impatiently.

"I can find them."

.~*~.

"**I will never let you fall.**

**I'll stand up with you forever."**

Ashelia sat alone in the empty white cell, hands in her lap. The feral screams still seemed to hang in the air. Through the whole ruckus, Ashe had sat perfectly still, staring at the floor. She was anguished, and desperate, but helpless, so she hadn't even moved or got up to watch as they dragged the child away. She didn't think the girl had seen her…and that was far easier. Ashe could have borne the accusations, but she didn't have to and for that she was grateful.

Her life was one of constant strength, and standing up to any whip and scorn, and ignoring pain. Sometimes…she needed just to have one small break. The girl was like all others who didn't understand. Ashe's thoughts swum with more important things.

Basch was alive. The traitorous Captain who she had trusted among her closest friends and comrades, who had slain the king but betrayed her and all of Dalmasca, had escaped with his transgressions. She couldn't believe that he was, by some unjust measure of fate, allowed to roam free after all he'd done. And why did he pretend to be her ally once more? Did he really think he could regain his former facade? Or it could simply be that he delighted in mocking her pain. He was disgusting…

Ashe sighed, her head hung even lower. There wasn't much she could do about it now. There was nothing she could do now…her country, her people, all depended on a leader who was nothing better than a frail songbird stuck in a wire cage.

It was not long after that she heard the door to her cell swish open. She looked up sharply with a gasp; Vossler was rushing to her side.

"You are unharmed?" he asked urgently, as Ashe jumped to her feet.

"Vossler I—" she was cut off by a small groan as she stumbled aside, suddenly dizzy.

"Majesty!" Vossler's ready hands caught and steadied her.

Ashe scowled slightly, shaking off the dizziness with impatience. "It's nothing…I'll be fine." She'd probably just stood up too fast. It was fine. Someone else came up beside them, and Ashe's eyes steeled menacingly.

"You…" she hissed, glaring daggers at Basch. His reaction was blank, but hurt was buried deeply within. What a pack of lies.

Vaan came rushing up behind them, dancing on his feet like a spooked horse. "Come on come on let's go! What're you waiting for? Penelo's still out there—and Riley's not in any of these cells."

Ashe realized he may be talking about the girl. "Is Riley the viera?" she asked. Time was short, yes, but she should offer what information she had.

"Yeah half. You know where she is?"

"They took her not minutes before—I know not where."

Exasperated, Vaan growled, throwing up his hands.

"We should hurry," Balthier reminded, his tone singing impatiently. "They won't be long."

Vossler turned back to the princess, locking her gaze seriously. "We will talk later."

Ashe managed to bite back her anger. She nodded, letting it drop. He was right. They had little time.

When they emerged again into the ship's corridors, red lights flashed above their heads, and the blaring alarm was whooping angrily. The group paused outside the door, Vossler and Basch stepping out ahead to scan the area. The Imperials didn't seem to have arrived yet, but they would get here soon.

"Majesty," Basch called. "We will cut you a path."

Glowering, Ashe stepped forward and shouted, "I will not place my trust in the sword of a traitor!"

"But trust his sword we must," Vossler's commanding voice cut in. "Traitor or no. I see no other way."

With great reluctance, Ashe turned down her eyes submissively. The whole time, Basch stared straight ahead. At his sides, his hands trembled, curled into fists.

"We track back; commandeer a ship and make our escape."

Everyone obeyed Vossler's direction. As the others ran past, Basch nodded to him, ignoring the princess altogether. Breath hissing angrily through her gritted teeth, she took off running after the rest.

Vossler hesitated, staring at the ground. He knew Basch was staring after the princess as she ran from him. "…Her majesty cannot abide weakness" he muttered. "Least of all in herself." When Basch turned to him, Vossler met the gaze and continued, "We must make her confront the reality of our plight."

Basch's eyes turned back to the princess's—or rather, her retreating back. Disappointing it was that she was too blinded to see reality by herself.

.~*~.

"**I'd come for you. I'd fight for you.**

**No matter what gets in my way.**

**As long as there's still life in me.**

**You know I'll always come for you."**

Vaan shoved open the gigantic double doors and rushed through, coming into one of the four-way intersections of the hallways. First on everyone else's mind was escape, but he thought only about Penelo. Well of course he thought of Riley—but she could take care of herself. Likely she'd get back to them on her own…right? But Penelo had been captured for days, waiting for him to save her. He was the only one she counted on to protect her from the abuse she must be going through. He had to find her before he even thought about escaping. The others could do what they wanted. If nothing else, he'd get captured with her. They just had to be together, and they would be fine…no matter what…

Suddenly, Vaan skidded to a stop. Someone had been running down the left hall, and crossed the intersection right in front of him. His jaw dropped open wide.

Penelo barely just caught sight of him from the corner of her eye, but immediately she knew who it was. She stopped at once, causing Riley, who was blinded by the yellow light in her eyes, to run into her. She'd been holding onto the back of Penelo's wing armor things so she could still run. Penelo didn't notice. She stared in desperate disbelief, wondering if this was really possible.

"Vaan…" With a joyful sob, she bolted for him.

He came forward to meet her, arms held out. She crashed into him, clinging to him as if he were life itself. Vaan held her tightly, his face buried in her hair.

"It's okay," he murmured. "We're okay."

As the yellow light left her eyes, the first thing Riley saw was those two, embracing each other in safety at last. Riley stared in wonder, until a smile formed on her lips that she was helpless to resist. But the weird thing was she wanted to cry, too, because she knew what that embrace was like, and she likely could never feel it again.

As if remembering something, Riley turned her gaze over to Balthier. He did not meet her eyes.

Showing far more maturity than his teenage companions, Larsa strode past them and up to Ashelia. "Ghis knows you've escaped. You must hurry." Here, he turned to Vossler. "You are captain Azelas. You will follow me. We must reach the airships before they do." The kid was all business.

"You would let us leave knowing who we are?" Vossler asked.

The only answer he gave was to turn and address the princess. "Lady Ashe. By all rights, you ought not to even exist." Basch had come, and now all three of them listened with surprise at the wisdom from such a young boy. "The you and Captain Rosenberg were made to appear dead is like a hidden thread laid bare. Your actions hereafter will pull at that thread, and we will see what it unravels."

By now, the teenagers had gathered closer, listening just as attentively. Larsa looked to Ashelia, Basch, and Vossler imperatively as he continued, "This is our chance. We must see this through, and get to the bottom of it. I believe 'tis for the good of Dalmasca, and for the good of the Empire."

Riley stared down at the kid, unable to put much strength into her glare. She liked what he spoke, and how. He was the Emperor's son, and Vayne's brother…but his own person, and a good one. And a good person among the enemy, being so close to so many people in power, was a very comforting thought.

"…Very well," Ashe murmured. Behind her detatched and over-dignified air, a smile was in her eyes.

"Thanks…'_Lamont_.'" Larsa spun around to see Vaan staring at him challengingly. He was sore at being lied to. Riley shared that view…or had, until now, when she realized that he'd _had_ to lie. None of them would have even thought of trusting him before they knew what they knew now.

"Yes. I must apologize," Larsa said. He pulled something from his pocket and walked up to Penelo, holding out his hand. "Penelo—for you." He put an oval-shaped, blue, glowing stone into her hand. It was the nethecite he'd gotten in the mines. Larsa offered her a smile, and she returned it. "May it bring you good fortune."

Then, striding up to Vossler, he said, "Let us go."

The soldier looked beyond Larsa, his meaningful gaze going to Basch. The captain met his eyes. Basch nodded slowly, and Vossler returned it.

Then, without a word, they parted ways, and each one's party followed them.

.~*~.

**A/N:** *pant…pant…pant* Holy…freakin…SPAZZ that was long. Sorry guys; I didn't know it's be this much lol. But now, it is done, and I hope you have enjoyed. ^-^ *bow* Next chapter should offer more original scenes and less game plot if I can manage it.

Also, woot for a thousand hits! Thanks you guys XD I feel so loved. :3

**Lyric headings:** "My Sacrifice" by Creed, "Hate Me" by Blue October, "Elysium" by Ultrabeat, "You Can't Take Me" by Brian Adams, "Sweet Serendipity" by Lee DeWayze, "Your Guardian Angel" by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (which I also call Basch's Perfect Theme Song XD), aaaaannd last btu not least "I'd Come For You" by Nickleback. *wipes forehead* shewf…


	9. When You Are With Me

"**With you by my side I will fight and defend."**

There were no Imperials in the halls that led up to the loading dock, which they were all extremely grateful for. But it was weird. The alarm still blared like eight million angry bees, and it should be calling every Imperial within range to stop them. Balthier was sure he wasn't the only one thinking about that; Basch and Fran had to have noticed too. Something was happening beyond the obvious.

He glanced over at their three younger members. The teenagers were running as if every wolf in the Estersand were at their heels. Ordinarily, Balthier would have found it amusing. But now, the wolves were at his heels, too. And besides that…these dogs were dangerous.

They were nearly there. If they made it to the shuttle, they were fine. But they'd wasted a lot of time already… The Imperials would not have wasted a second. It was very likely they were running into an ambush. But there was no other way; if they couldn't fight their way out through here, there would be no more chances.

"Is that it?" a young voice shouted. As they rounded a corner, Riley had caught sight of the door at the end of the hall.

"Yes," Basch answered. "That is the shuttle bay—we can escape from there."

"Only if a ship's still there!" Vaan put in.

"And I doubt those Imperials are here to christen our shuttle…" Balthier had happened to glance down an adjoining hallway they passed—which was full of soldiers. So that's where they all were. The sound of metal boots struck up a chorus as the dimwitted soldiers finally took up pursuit.

Someone squeaked fearfully, then Riley was sprinting out ahead, far faster than any of the others. She reached the door first, slamming her fist on the button that would open them. The doors swished open and Riley rushed in, the others coming soon after.

The last one in, Balthier turned back as the doors closed. The panel in between the two doors had several smaller buttons as well as the open/close one. He made quick work of it, fingers dancing across the panel. Three buttons and a switch later, the light behind the middle button changed color to red, giving off a low beep. From the other side of the thick glass doors, he smirked at the Imperials as they finally arrived and unsuccessfully pounded away at the opening button.

Grinning, he saluted the soldiers with two fingers, then stalked away to rejoin his companions. That cheap lock wouldn't hold the metal-headed oafs for long. But as he turned around, his mirth vanished. The shuttle was gone, and standing by its empty lot was a heavily armored, caped figure. Balthier rolled his eyes to glare at the ceiling. It figured. His fears of ambush had been confirmed, and by no less than Ghis himself.

Oh, blast and bugger all…

"Such a great shame." An arm draped across his sword hilt, Ghis sauntered along the thin walkway, making his way back to the platform. "I must confess: I had hoped you would be the one to restore peace to Dalmasca."

Clearly he was addressing Ashe, so the princess stepped forward in order to scowl at him properly. Balthier glanced over his shoulder upon hearing the low beeping sound—unmistakably a system override on his lock. A second later, the Imperials pounded into the room, surrounding them from behind.

"No matter. We hold the proof of your royal lineage; a maid of passing resemblance will serve our purpose now." Having finally reached the ramp to the main platform, Ghis raised his arm above his head. Swirls of red light and flying embers began to gather and swirl in the talon-like claws of his gauntlet.

Basch reacted first, stepping forward so that Ashelia was behind him. But as the spell took shape, it didn't seem to matter who was first in line. The mixture of magic and fire shot into the air and grew, forming a giant vortex overhead. Ghis was using Flare. It would wipe them all out—and those who managed to stay standing would be quickly cut down by the soldiers at their backs. Basch couldn't accept that. Maybe if he took the most of it…if Ashe stayed behind him…

Riley found herself pushed to the center of the group along with Penelo. The adults (and Vaan) were forming a wall around them. Riley barely noticed it in the back of her mind; fear took the foreground. Her wide eyes reflected the fiery maelstrom like terrified mirrors.

"As for you, my dear…" Ghis's voice rose above the mounting confusion, mounting in volume and fury. "The Empire requires you _no more_!"

At the motion of Ghis's arms, the spell lunged forward.

In the instant it hit, the spell, rather than its intended victims, was destroyed. It broke into a million scraps of magic, then was sucked like fiery tendrils into a single point within the center of the companions' huddle. In its place, a blue glow radiated.

All eyes turned to the source of the light—and there Penelo stood, holding in both hands a blue stone whose light faded as soon as it had come. "…What was that?" she muttered, staring in shock at Larsa's stone.

"The nethecite," Balthier muttered, eying the stone with a surprised smirk.

Ashe's eyes snapped toward Ghis. Releasing a growl, she ran out in front of the others, stopping within feet of the Judge. She placed herself directly between him and the ones behind her. This time, Basch did not stop her.

"Your majesty does not disappoint." Stepping down onto the battlefield, Ghis readied his weapons—the sword, and a half-circle lined with daggers. He used them to strike a ridiculous battle-ready pose that he'd no doubt spent hours in front of the mirror perfecting. "Ever quick to spurn an honorable surrender—as was your father…"

As if his words were thrown daggers, Ashe stepped back, holding up an arm as if in defense. Rage quickly consumed pain and she came forward with renewed fury, drawing her sword. "You know _nothing_ of my father!"

At that, she charged forward with weapon raised, as did Judge Ghis.

That was the only cue needed for the others to erupt into battle. As Basch went ahead to help Ashe, the rest of them went for his Imperial hounds. But Riley hesitated, glancing around incredulously. What the heck was she supposed to do without a weapon!

As she turned another way, her heart jolted in terror and she squealed, ducking down right in time for a fire bolt to soar over her head. "Gah!—holy freakin…HEY!" she shouted, slapping her hands onto her head as she crouched down.

…Oh! Spells! Right, right! Riley knew black magic up to stage two, and some green…but Cure was all she knew of white. She darted around the fight so that she was close to the wall, then started firing off shots of fira and thundara, concentrating on keeping the lesser soldiers away from their leader.

The Judge was strong. He focused on Lady Ashe, but Basch was right at her side, trying as much as possible to draw Ghis's attention. But finding an opening in the Judge's armor was nearly impossible; every inch of him was sheathed in bronze. And every hit he dealt was more powerful than theirs. Basch spent as much time attacking as he did casting Cure on Ashe. But, from somewhere close behind, he kept hearing the sharp report of a gun being fired, reminding him that he wasn't entirely alone in his guardian duty.

With an unexpected burst of speed, the Judge swung his strange half-circle weapon. Ashelia's eyes widened—she barely had an instant. Somehow, she got her shield up in time. But the force behind it was powerful, and one of the points managed to slip over the top edge of her shield. Ashe staggered back, releasing a pained cry.

In an instant, Basch was in front of her. He gave a small shout as he swung his sword mightily in both hands. Judge Ghis staggered aside, having caught the blow in his ribcage because of the one instant of false triumph.

"Majesty," Basch said quickly, "heal yourself."

Safe, she crouched in the shadow of his fighting figure. As she was casting Cure, Ashe looked up at his back and saw something familiar…a kind of strength…something she had not seen for a long while. One she'd lamented for, thinking she would never see it again.

Seeing that Ghis's opposition was temporarily reduced to one, Balthier raised his gun that way once again. His shot staggered and distracted the Judge, though whether it did any real damage, he hadn't the time to find out. His attention returned immediately to his own pressing battle. He and Fran were working to keep three Imperials at bay—though spells came from the other side of the room to help them. Close to the halfbreed girl, two more soldiers were dueling individually with Penelo and Vaan.

Over the sound of clashing metal, Penelo's outcry reached Vaan's ears. Managing to glance her way, he caught a glimpse of her staggering back under the blow of a sword. Vaan started for her, but the lapse in concentration nearly cost him his life, as the sword of the soldier he was dueling came at him from the side Vaan barely got his dagger up in time to block it. There was no way he could get away from this guy without getting himself killed.

"Riley!" Vaan growled, swinging his knife like a maniac. "Help Penelo!"

Seconds after, a thunderbolt materialized from thin air, striking Penelo's attacker. Shuddering, the soldier dropped to one knee, momentarily dazed.

Penelo took the opportunity. Even as she clutched her wound, she swung her bleeding arm down with her dagger, plunging it into the soldier's neck.

One more down.

Riley grinned in triumph, feeling a new surge of terror lift her heart and thrill her with delight. Trying not to lose her focus, she immediately began a Cure spell for Penelo, who was already charging in to help with Vaan's fight. But before Riley had a chance to finish the spell, her instincts suddenly screamed inside her. Movement—danger—left, from the left! Riley dove to her right. An imperial blade slammed into the wall right where she'd been standing, spitting sparks with the blow's force.

From the ground, she stared up into the bucket-face of another soldier. He raised his sword. Riley's mouth dropped open and she glared, shaking her head. "Hey—no dude! Dude…no!" Dude wasn't listening. He chopped down at her and Riley screamed, rolling aside in the nick of time. She could swear the guy had cut off a piece of her shirt that time.

Riley scrambled to her feet, but the only place for her to run was back to the wall, since the battle was in all the other directions. She spun around, back pressed against the wall so tightly you couldn't fit a newspaper between the two. Freezing terror vibrated through her spine and lungs as the Imperial advanced. Invisible fingers plucked her blood vessels and played her tendons like a discordant harp. The soldier broke into a run, unleashing a passionate roar.

Behind her dilated eyes, one of the fingers seemed to pull too hard, snapping a chord. Rage joined Riley's fear.

A sound like the unearthly shriek of a demonic wolf exploded from her lips. She shot forward with such speed and force that the Imperial was blasted back, barely keeping his feet. In the next instant, she was upon him. Riley leapt—quite literally—through the air to tackle the Imperial to the ground, landing with both hands and feet on his chest. Moving on all fours like a deranged cat-monkey, she swung herself to the floor beside his head, claws digging at his neck. Her fingers latched under the lip of his helmet, tearing it off in an instant. Then she was working frantically toward an all-out mauling, as the Imperial flailed his arms out at her and in front of his face.

She barely registered the sight or feel of blood, but her claws had found it. She latched them underneath his chin, planted her feet on his shoulder. She paused there, caught between mercy and breaking his neck. Her victim shrieked, swatting his arms at her desperately. By some mixture of chance and luck, his sword struck her, slicing through the meat of her forearm.

Riley cried out and, before she knew it, pulled as hard as she could, twisting to the side. With a sickening crack and a fanning spray of blood, the soldier's neck snapped. His flailing arms fell limp and he made no more sound.

.~*~.

"**I can't control myself. So many times I've tried.**

**But there's still rage inside.**

**Help me believe it's not the real me.**

**Somebody help me tame this animal I have become."**

Slowly, as her pupils shrank little by little, Riley became aware of her surroundings. Her own ragged breathing was the first thing she heard. Beyond that, there was clashing metal—but the chaos was far less than it had been minutes before. She glanced around, wondering if she'd missed something. The others were ganging up on Ghis, who was losing badly against their numbers. Three Imperials lay in heaps on the ground. Riley glanced over just in time to see another one fall, five or six arrows sticking out from him like pins in a pincushion.

…But hadn't there been one more soldier?

For the first time, Riley felt something under her hands. Skin and...sticky moisture… It was warm, and quickly cooling… Riley looked down, and her face twisted with horror. She took in a halting gasp, trying unsuccessfully to wrench her hands away from his head. Finally, when she realized that her claws were sunk inch-deep in _bloody_ _flesh_, she jerked away her hands. Riley scrambled to her feet, panting, as she stared down at the corpse she'd just mauled.

"Is it satisfied?" A cool, exotic accent asked from behind her.

Riley jumped, spinning around to see Fran standing with her arms crossed, bow slung over her shoulder.

"I-is…what?" she mumbled, barely able to raise her voice higher than a whisper.

"Your inner monster," Fran said, her voice cold and gentle. "Has is had enough to eat?"

Her eyes stung and she squinted them to keep them dry. Riley felt her throat constrict. "Who says I wanna feed it?" she muttered bitterly. "So…so what if I feed it! It saved me…it's useful…"

"At the proper times, yes."

And this wasn't! Looking down, Riley crossed her arms and hugged herself tightly, unable to bear disapproval from _her_, above all, for something she'd done right…

But Fran came up beside her, and she was surprised to feel the viera's hand between her shoulders. "This was a proper time."

All her turmoil vanished, Riley looked up at her in blank surprise, but Fran only looked straight ahead as she started walking, guiding the young girl back toward the rest of the group. Riley tried to avoid the awkward stared from those who had seen. Vaan was oblivious, of course, but Penelo was staring at her like Riley was gonna eat her or something. And of course Balthier had seen. He couldn't have the good grace to keep quiet about it, either.

"Alright?" he asked, and there was a mocking undertone that made her blood boil. But then he happened to glance at Fran, and was surprised to see her glaring at him. Balthier went silent, turning back to the source of everyone else's attention: The Judge.

Ghis had collapsed against the wall, his helmet falling to the ground. He staggered forward, gasping for breath, as one hand covered his face in an attempt to hide from the defeat.

Before anyone could do anything, the doors behind them opened once more. Already heading back inside, Vossler called, "We've secured an Atomos. Come!"

"An Atomos?" Balthier complained as the others ran past him. "All skiff, no ship…hardly fit for the leading man." He finally ran after them, and behind him came Vaan.

"So—can I fly it then?" he piped up hopefully.

"Are you _mad?_" Fran scoffed as she ran past.

Vaan glowered, defeated. With a sigh, he moved to follow them.

A hand whacked the back of his head. Shouting protests, he looked around and saw Riley, already running away.

"Dumb blonde…"she murmured quietly.

.~*~.

"Can't we go faster?" Penelo asked desperately, searching the control console over Fran's shoulder. The ship had only just powered up; it seemed like it was taking forever.

"Uh—I'm all for that!" Riley's voice came from the corridor, where she looked out the still-open door of the Atomos.

"Not yet." Fran answered shortly. The viera's graceful hands danced over the console and never once seemed to slip up or hit the wrong button. Penelo couldn't see how she knew the controls so intricately. It was like she was completely familiar with the system, even though it was an Imperial ship.

"Aw geeze…" Riley groaned desperately at the sight of Imperials flooding into the hangar. She bit her lip as she watched them from the open door. "Seriously checking this off the Never-Do-Again list…."

"Clear off," a grumpy voice muttered. With a short yelp, Riley was pulled away from the door by the collar of her shirt and spun against the wall. Balthier pulled the door closed and shoved the lock into place. "We're set! Go!" he called to the cockpit. Not two seconds later, the giant claw-like braces surrounding the ship fell away, and the Atomos lifted from its hangar—and not a moment too soon, as the Imperial soldiers in the hangar had reached the ship, right as it took off. Inside, the cockpit was flooded with noonday light as the doors opened and the ship emerged into sunlight and sky.

Penelo felt her heart jump; there were Imperial airships and shuttles everywhere, flying in all directions, and surrounding them. Her eyes locked on a group of Tonberries flying in a V-formation, heading right toward them. She gasped, clutching the back of Fran's chair.

"Everyone down!" Vossler warned, already following his own directions. He and Basch knelt down immediately, making sure Ashe was hidden completely.

Fran's hand grabbed her by the shoulder and Penelo was pushed into a crouch. Glancing back, she saw that Vaan—the big moron—was still standing around gazing out the window. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him down behind the chair.

"H-hey!"

"Vaan, you idiot…"

"Ack—!" Riley had picked that unfortunate moment to enter the cockpit, and in the same second, a boot kicked the back of her knee. She collapsed as her leg buckled, falling sideways to the ground. "Ay! Easy on the merch!" she growled, twisted around to glower at Balthier, who was crouched on one knee.

"You're welcome."

The enemy ships flew right on by, not even slowing. They were home-free. Fran was the first to get up, climbing back into the pilot's chair.

"They've passed," Ashe remarked in wonder. The others were all standing back up as well.

Over her shoulder, Fran told Penelo, "If we'd have gone too fast, they'd have noticed."

Penelo sighed in relief, silently thanking the viera.

As the ship picked up speed, zooming away from the Imperial fleet, Penelo wondered what they'd ever do without the pirates—especially Fran. It always seemed that she was the cool-headed one. Fran never panicked and always knew what to do. Penelo secretly glanced at the viera's face. How did she stay so calm and focused? However she managed it, they were lucky to have Fran with them.

"Grah!" Riley growled, staggering to her feet. She thrust a finger at Balthier. "You!—you...I dunno about you. I don't understand you." She threw up her hands and went to stand by Fran's chair—but stopped short, as someone already had the spot occupied: Penelo. Riley's brow furrowed not-so-slightly. She elbowed her way past Vaan and stood at Fran's _other_ side, glancing secretly at Penelo.

As she snapped at him, Balthier ignored her mostly and just stalked over to take the seat beside Fran. But as he settled into the cool leather of a pilot's chair, hands on the controls and a hundred Imperial search parties falling behind him, the pirate couldn't suppress a wry grin.

"Never a man has, Pet," he murmured, gazing out at sunlight and open sky. "Not a person alive."

.~*~.

**When you are with me, I'm free.**

**I'm careless, I believe.**

**Above all the others, we'll fly.**

**This brings tears to my eyes.**

Balthier had been right about the Atomos. It was gimp. It was really slow. They had only been aboard the Leviathan for about half a day, but it had been moving that entire time, and now they were hours away from Bhujerba. As the trip dragged on, Riley could only think of the fleet they were leaving behind. In particular, one soldier. Sitting in one of the four seats that lined the cockpit's control panel, she propped her chin in her hand and stared out the window, with Jonathan in her mind's eye.

Ah, geeze…Jon... The last time she'd seen him, he was a thin and muscular teenager with stringy, jet-black hair that fell into his rugged face, which was always covered with dirt. He was the oldest of her mother's litter. He was like the leader. And he was best friends with her full brother. Jon had been right up front with Allan in every battle. The one they were all sure would never give in. Never break. But now look what he was.

"And look at you…"

Riley's breath left her in a sharp exhale.

"If you'd only stayed—!"

She felt tears sting her eyes. Agony was in his voice…for her. Agony for her betrayal, and even longing…for what she would have been if she'd stayed. Despicable. She was disgusting. Did all the others feel that way? Through all the crap he went through, Jon was angry not just at her, but for her. She wanted to think that…hidden somewhere behind Jon's eyes…he was angry because she was in chains again. She had to think so. That would mean he didn't hate her. That would mean he hadn't changed and he was still her kin…and the others could be, too.

Allen could be, too.

"_Hey_," Balthier's voice drew her away from her inner tempest.

"Huh—what? ...What?" she muttered.

"The controls," Balthier clarified. The way he said it implied that he'd been repeating the order for a few times already.

"Oh." She glanced down at the console and hit the buttons in the sequence he had shown her. The control panel was designed in a half-circle that spanned from one side of the cockpit to the other. It was supposed to be flown by five people. There was him and Fran in the two middle seats, and Riley beside Balthier. Some of the controls they needed to fly the thing were on her portion of the console, and earlier he'd given her the job of pushing buttons and flipping switches as he ordered. On the other side of Fran sat Penelo, and in the seat beside Riley was Vaan. They'd both been given similar tasks. At first Riley had liked the idea, but then she realized that they weren't doing any work of real consequence—that it was only to keep the kids from screwing anything up.

But still…there was something in it she was grateful for. The distraction, maybe, or the simple feeling of sitting in a cockpit chair in front of (somewhat) vital controls. Riley could look out at the skyscape, the sun reflecting off ever-shifting clouds, and with the very tips of her fingers she could just barely brush against that feeling she imagined freedom to be like.

"Riley!"

Someone punched her in the arm. She hissed angrily at Vaan, but then looked over at Balthier, who was again nagging at her to maintain her controls.

"Sorry," she mumbled, glancing down at the console. She was supposed to make sure the two green buttons always stayed green, and if they weren't, to flick the third switch down from the top. One of her buttons had turned red. She flipped the switch and it went back to green, no prob.

"Really, Pet, you ought to focus on getting your head out of the clouds." Balthier muttered, going back to his own controls.

It took Riley a moment to decide that she liked her new nickname. Her piratey, jargoned, degrading nickname. She grinned slightly and put her chin in her hand again. "Said the man who flies for a living," she muttered.

"There's the difference," Balthier answered lightly, for the first time with no aggravation in his tone. "I make a living."

Basch, who had been quiet until now, interjected, "I should think the civilian workforce everywhere would disagree with that."

Balthier chuckled and didn't disagree. "Why Captain, you've wounded me. I daresay I can't go on flying in this condition."

Riley glanced back just in time to see a grin split Basch's lips. She loved the sight; it was rare.

"I can take over!" Vaan's voice piped up, a devilish smile on his face.

Balthier snorted a laugh. "Oh—would you look at that! I'm healed; it must be a miracle."

Riley laughed aloud, not even trying to hold it back. At that moment, she suddenly became aware of how sunny it was throughout the whole cockpit. The gently shadows across her companion's faces only highlighted the pale bronze light of the sun. She glanced to Vaan, staring out into the sky with a content kind of awe that surpassed the amazement of children. Then to Basch, leaning against the wall with his boot heel jammed against the wall behind him. Ashe and Vossler were of smaller consequence, and she noted Penelo with a measure of mixed feelings. But then she saw Fran, and finally, the leading man himself.

She was stunned. Because right now she figured there was no place on this planet she'd rather be than here and now, not even with Jon or Allan…well, maybe she wished Allan was here too. Anyway it didn't matter. She was happier than she'd ever been. Everything was okay here. She didn't know who to thank except…except the new and foreign feeling of friendship, not to mention freedom—and, as always, sweet serendipity.

"Riley!" Balthier snapped again. "For heaven's sake, urchin, flip your bloody switch."

"Yeah, yeah, flippin the switch, I'm on it…"

.~*~.

"**I'm still in shock—what have you done?**

**My head is pounding; vision's blurred. Your mouth is moving—I don't hear the words.**

**I'm blacking out, I'm shutting down. You left a hole when you walked out.**

**I'm falling through the doors of the emergency room.**

**And I'm dyin, dyin, from these exit wounds."**

His armor clashed with his every heated stride, grinding awfully in his sensitive ears. Here in the military, they were always laid flat—halfbreed ears—flat against heads so they couldn't hear. Always hurt by the grating sounds of their own armor. The young man who now walked the corridors of the Dreadnought Leviathan was no different. His jet black ears hurt just as much—more, probably, than those of all the other halfbreeds.

All but his brother. Allan's ears were always so pained that they bled at least once every day. And when Allan heard the news he bore today, those bright red ears of his would be bleeding rivers.

Jonathan turned a corner, ignoring the soldiers that were walking down this corridor. As he passed them with his quickened pace, the hume Imperials seemed to scatter away, making plenty of room for his tall and imposing form. They reacted to all the halfbreeds like that. Jon was ordinarily pleased by that. Today, his mind was on other things.

Riley. The runt, the most useless sibling, the infamous coward. Alive. Escaped…again. She'd run away again.

Jonathan's armored fingers curled into a very literal iron fist and his arm swung forward, connecting with an unfortunate fellow soldier who just so happened to be walking past. The half-viera kept walking as if nothing had happened, his pace quickened with fury.

Why did she insist on abandoning them? Now, he understood. The life he now embraced was a horrible prison worse than their first home. But she wouldn't even try to help? How could one so weak and flighty ever be the full-blood sister of Allan?

He reached the shuttle bay and stormed aboard the nearest Atomos, striding right up to the cockpit. He snatched the back of some random soldier's collar and threw him out of the chair, replacing the man in the pilot seat. "Infantry quarters," he ordered his four nervous co-pilots. The man he'd thrown aside quickly got to his feet and, daring to growl in protest, backed against the wall behind them.

The ship took off. Soon Jonathan was taken to a separate, medium-sized ship which housed his brother's contingent of soldiers. Allan was in a position of authority, just like all the halfbreeds, so his quarters were closest to the docking bay. It took not two minutes for Jon to reach the door to Allan's room. He knew he'd be there. He was always holed up here when he was off-duty. Jon thumbed the ringer button and waited; it always took Allan a while to answer.

After a few moments, he figured he hadn't heard the ring or was ignoring it. He mashed the button again. "S'me, Al," he called.

His sharp ears detected the rustling of papers and the scooting of a desk chair. Long seconds later, the door swished open, and there stood the weariest, oldest-looking nineteen-year-old Jon had ever seen.

"Jon," Allan murmured, his voice breathy and tired. He shuffled aside to let his half-brother in.

"Just wake up?" Jonathan asked with a hollow chuckle, closing the door and crossing the rom to half-sit on Allan's desk, which was littered with random military paperwork.

"Yeah." He had crossed the room and flopped down onto the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His head was still killing him; the nap hadn't helped at all.

Jonathan saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. "Sleeping on your desk?"

"Hadn't meant to."

Jon's voice was quiet. He jerked a thumb towards the red-stained papers. "…You'll need new report forms, Al."

Allan looked down at the desk and scowled, reaching for his ear. Dried blood encrusted the fur. "Black powder," he cursed. "Those were the third copies…"

Jonathan breathed deeply, unable to put up a fake smile. He couldn't keep up any kind of smile; not with this news. He couldn't smile anyway when he heard the hollow wind that had become Allan's voice. "Hey Al," he muttered, but Allan cut him short.

"Bad news again."

Jonathan looked down and away: perfect confirmation.

There had always been a gap between Al and the others after he had set up his sister's escape. But it was a smaller gap with Jon and some of the more reasonable siblings. Over their time in the military, though, the half-viera drew close to each other as much as possible. It was a sheer miraculous coincidence that Allan and Jon were together. The rest of them were jealous that they weren't picked, but anyone smart—like Jon—knew that Allan wouldn't pick anyone but his darling sister. He kinda tried to understand it. But he'd always thought Allan did way too much for the kid.

"Hurry up Jon, I hate suspense."

He looked up at Al's ragged face. The young man was still ruggedly handsome, the best-looking one outta them all, Jon thought. Lucky jerk stole all the good looks from the gene pool. Bright green eyes and muscles. Tannest, strongest chin, broadest shoulders. Thinnest. Now look what the army did to him. His face was pale and sallow all the time, his eyes always rimmed with black circles. Jon's eyes fixed on his brother's hair, bright vibrant red, trimmed into a crew cut like everyone else's. His matching ears were, for once, upright on his head. Just as red as his sister's.

Jonathan looked at the ground, covering his eyes with his finger and thumb, so he wouldn't have to see the look ok Allan's face. "Riley's alive."

The words seemed to echo like he'd spoken into an oil drum.

"And…so…" Al had to stop, clearing his throat as he ran the back of his hand across his forehead. He could barely whisper the next words. "And you saw her? Where? When?"

"…Here. Today."

For a minute, Jon was able to resist the urge to look at him…but he succumbed, and immediately he wished he hadn't looked. He may as well have punched Al in the face. With a dagger.

"She was with the prisoners they brought in, the pirate ones," Jon muttered, looking away again. "Got free this morning."

Allan rose shakily to his feet, swaying for a moment until he regained his balance. He staggered across the room to the window, slumping against the wall with one arm propped on the wall over his head. He tried to reply, but his tongue was dry and numb in his mouth. His throat was closing up…it was hard to breathe…

"She…she got free, Al." Jon said, staring hard at his brother's back.

The clouds outside his window were blurring and darting about in a way that made him nauseous. Allan ran a hand over his pale face, covering his eyes. Something thick and liquid trickled down the side of his head; he didn't notice. His head felt light, like it was evaporating—like it wasn't even there.

"You didn't…" He stopped and had to clear his throat. "Didn't tell me while she was here?"

Jonathan gritted his teeth, turning his gaze back to the floor. "…I dunno why you care so much. It's what you wanted, Al, for her to run away. Leave us."

His ears hurt. It'd never been so bad. Allan's face began to twist into a grimace. He lifted a hand to his head, squeezing his right ear in a painful fist. Blood seeped between his fingers.

"And she did it quick, too, left without a second thought. I…I talked to her…she didn't know me, I don't think. She was just scared of me."

"Y…talked to her…"

"Not for long, then she was gone... So she got away too fast for me to tell y—Al!_"_

A dull thud had stopped him. Jonathan bolted to Allan's crumpled form, dropping to his knees beside him. He'd collapsed on his side, his back turned on Jon. "Allan!" he shouted, clutching his brother's arm. He didn't answer. Jon put a hand to Allan's head, trying to stop the blood…his ears were bleeding far more than could possibly be normal…

"_Allan!_"

.~*~.

**A/N:** Short chapter, I know. I got lazy and impatient . I really did intend to make it longer. The next one will be, I promise. Also, whatcha think about Jon and Allan? XD I only thought of that scene after I published it, but I'm totally in love with it. I can has reviews? =3 pweez?

**Lyric headings:** "Keep Holding On" by Avril Lavigne, "Animal I Have Become" by Three Day's Grace, aaaand finally introducing another Riley theme song: "My Sacrifice" by Creed. And the last one is "Exit Wounds" by The Script.


	10. Prisons of Every Kind

**Emergency A/N: **WAIT NO STOP! Hold up! If you haven't yet, you need to go back one chapter. After I published it, I thought of a brilliant ending scene. I edited and tacked it onto the end of chapter eight. You should totally go back and read that. I think you'll enjoy it. Or be really mad at me. X] Either way I'm utterly satisfied. Drop me a review and let me know!

It occurs to me that I should clear up some confusion my errors in detail in past chapters have no doubt created. In one of my earlier chapters, Riley says that the half-viera are taken out of the farms and moved to the soldiers' barracks when they turn sixteen. I realize now with everyone's ages that this is impossible, so let's change that to age thirteen. Also, Jonathan is the son of Riley's mother's FIRST mate (duh), not her third—which is what I said in one of the earlier chapters because I forgot it mattered.

Also! Half-viera on the Leviathan are ranked at Lieutenant Commander, which are in charge of a large number of the regular Imperial soldiers. Five regular lieutenants are under them. There is one Commander in charge of ten Lt. Cmdrs. I made all these up just now so if they turn out to be a problem in the future, I'll fix them.

~ Flare

.~*~.

"**I'm not scared at all.  
No I'm not scared at all.  
Of the cracks in the crystal—cracks in the crystal ball."**

The trip was over far too soon for Riley. But they were all still together, and the ride had lifted her spirits completely, and best of all they'd come back to Bhujerba. Not Rabanastre. She wasn't sure what all they had to do here, but she didn't care as long as it meant that the ride wasn't over yet. There were still adventures to be had. Serendipity was with her, and the winds of fate had proven themselves. She wasn't worried anymore.

Spinning in little circles, she danced out past the others as they all filed into the Aerodrome lobby. Then something by the front desks caught her attention and she skipped over to where a moogle was standing on the counter. Moogles usually looked all the same, but she recognized this one by his outfit.

"Hey!" she beamed, and she must have started the little guy because he jumped, making a high-pitched squeak that was so cute that Riley was sure her head would explode. She bit her lip and tried not to laugh or squee or anything; she figured they didn't like that. "You're the one who fixes the _Strahl_, huh?"

"Y-yes…among others." the moogle stuttered, staring warily at Riley's broad grin. His voice was so frikin _cute_! It wasn't really very high-pitched like she'd expect; it was more light and chirpy. "My name is Nono."

Penelo came into the room with Vaan. Everyone seemed to be branching off into little cliques; Ashe, Basch, and Vossler were together behind them, and out in front, the pirates wandered off ahead. Seeing the chance, Penelo suddenly remembered something she'd been wanting to do. She ran out towards him, taking something from her pocket.

"Balthier!" The pirate turned around to see her holding a white square of embroidered cloth, offering it out to him with both hands. "Your handkerchief—I thought you might want it back."

Balthier looked at her curiously for a moment. Taking the cloth, he dipped a bow, crossing a hand over his heart. "I shall wear it close to my heart," he assured, the slightest hint of a smile playing around his lips. Before she realized it, Penelo was beaming back at him.

Behind them both, Vann watched her with a look of surprise and disgust. Gross! She had a _crush_ on him! That was just his luck—what the heck did she have to do that for? Gross. Tons of awkward in the future—mountains of awkward. …How did he do that?

"Perhaps you forget all Ondore has wrought." Ashe's voice was quiet as she spoke such of the Marquis, almost as if she wished she weren't saying it. But her resolve remained firm; it was so, and she didn't like to trust Ondore now.

But, seeing as she spoke to Basch, Vossler wasn't so sure that it was her stubbornness speaking, rather than any real objection to speaking to Ondore.

"I do not forget, Majesty," Basch answered. "It was by his counsel, dangerous though it may have been, that we were able to free you."

Ashe seemed quieted for the moment; maybe it was because of a growing hope that the Marquis was still a good man. She strongly wished he was…

"You must meet with him, your highness, and give ear to his words," Basch went on, gently but firm—the perfect tone for counsel. "He may act in league with the Empire, but his heart is not."

Ashe's eyes shifted away from hope, though, and took on a detached, suspicious edge.

"It is as he says." Vossler's voice stole her attention. "I ought not have kept Ondore at so great a distance for so long a time. I have…played the _fool_."

"You were only being cautious," Ashe assured gently. Basch tried not to roll his eyes.

Vossler went on as if he hadn't heard her. "Majesty I would ask you for some time. On our own, we struggle in vain to restore Dalmasca. I must search out some other way." Here, he glanced sidelong at Basch. "Until I should find it, I would have Basch remain at your side."

Ashe's protest was apparent on her face, but before she could say anything, Vossler beat her to it. "Doubt him you may," he almost snapped, before lowering his voice to a meaningful, serious tone, "but I measure his loyalty to Dalmasca no less than mine own."

It took her a moment to reply. She clasped her hands and looked at Vossler, inwardly clinging to her trust of the man. "I know you would not speak so lightly…very well."

Vossler turned to Basch, who met his gaze with an expression that came close to a smile. "Keep her well," Vossler said. "Go to Ondore, and there await my return."

Basch nodded, and they both watched Vossler leave. Ashe had to resist the urge to run after him, and scolded herself for being so childish. But she didn't have to pretend to like all this. '_Curse you, Vossler…curse you for being right all the time.'_

"Oh—bye Vossler-guy!" Riley's voice piped up from across the room. She stood on one tiptoe, leaning against the counter for balance as she waved him goodbye. She didn't care that Vossler didn't return her farewell. "Hey Balthier!" she shouted, turning to him instead. "Nono says it takes at least five good skystones to fly the _Strahl_. That's expensive, dude."

"Really now? Thank you for informing me; I never would have known."

"But he says they last for months at a time."

Balthier was already halfway to the exit, the others falling into step with him. "Amazing. Tell me more about my own ship's design."

"Ah, hahah, you're so witty and _clever_," she gibed, hopping down from her seat on the counter to come join the group. "You know, sar—Bye Nono. Sarcasm gets old real fast, Balthier."

"Right! I shall haste to the drawing board and dream up some brilliant new material."

"Gah!" Riley gave up and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

Behind her, Vaan cut in with a laugh. "Maybe you can tell me about it, Riley. Balthier's too lazy to tell me himself."

Tilting back his head to glare at the ceiling, Balthier exhaled sharply—that kind of almost-sigh of his. "Maybe," he said, stopping to turn and address Vaan directly, "I was too _busy_."

Vaan stared in blank confusion.

"Ask me later," Balthier finished, turning around and resuming the walk. "When I'm not saving your hide. Tell you all you want to know."

.~*~.

"**It is so easy to see dysfunction between you and me.  
With every worthless word we get more far away.  
But nothing lasts forever."**

Back to Ondore's place. That's the last place Riley expected to go. She wasn't too scared, though, cause Basch seemed pretty sure they wouldn't get captured again. Apparently the only way for them all to get free with the princess chick was to get caught. Riley still didn't like Ashe much, but she had new respect for Ondore. It was a really smart scheme. It almost got her sent back to Draklor, though, so she just hoped they wouldn't have to do anything like that again.

She stood looking at the beautiful griffon sculpture in his office while the others talked to the Marquis. She kinda listened in the back of her mind. Ashe was talking right now. She was giving out her backstory to Ondore.

"After Vossler learned my father had been killed the night of the treaty-signing, he returned to Rabanastre, there to aid my escape. There was still time before Vayne's reach extended too far…" Ashe locked her fingers together shyly. "We thought that you could protect me."

Riley tried not to scowl. Was that all the chick ever did was look for strong and powerful men to protect her? Stupid pansy. Riley could teach her a thing or two about the art of evasion. Heck, the pirates could.

Ondore steepled his fingers, pressing them to his lips. They thought about it, but they didn't come to him for protection. He thought he knew now why they hadn't; because of the announcement. "However," he reasoned, "when I then made the announcement that you had taken your own life…I must have seemed a model citizen on the Empire." He looked to her for confirmation.

Ashe dipped her head, halfway between a nod and an ashamed gesture.

"The announcement, you see, was Vayne's suggestion," the Marquis explained. "At the time, I was reluctant, but I could not perceive his reasons. Now it is clear. He meant to drive a wedge between us."

Ashe had been staring at her clasped fingers, but now she raised her head, dropping her arms to her sides. "Halim—we are past all this," she pleaded, drawing his attention. Her companions—all but Basch—marveled that she called the Marquis by his first name. "Bhujerba must stand with us. We can _stop_ Vayne!"

A moment of tense silence followed. Finally, Ondore simply stood from his chair, sighing in a way that only a weary, beaten man breaths. He stared into Ashelia's eyes, searching for the child that lay inside, behind her strong eyes and the set of her jaw. "I once knew a girl…" he muttered, "whose only wish was to be carried in her uncle's arms."

Ashe's silence wearied him more than ever. The child was gone, and she made sure that was clear. His memories and fondness of her were only in the way of the conversation—unless, of course, they would manipulate him to her side. Ondore closed his eyes briefly, drawing a shallow breath. "Your Majesty is a woman grown now."

Snapping right back to business, Ashe snatched the opportunity. "Then Bhujerba will aid me—"

"Suppose for a moment you were to defeat Vayne. What then?" He had interrupted her as he walked, back turned, to look out the window behind his desk. "You cannot simply rebuild your kingdom with the only proof of your birthright stolen. Without that…the Grand Kiltias on Bur-Omisace cannot and will not recognize Your Majesty as the rightful heir."

"You may yet be a princess, but without proof of your identity, you are powerless." Ondore slowly turned around to face her. "You will remain with me—we will do nothing until the time is right."

"I cannot just wait!"

Ondore's tone rose: the very first time she had heard anger tint his voice. "Then _what_ does Your Majesty propose we do?"

"U—Uncle Halim!"

Following was a helpless silence that drew the attention of all. Ashelia and the Marquis stared at each other, neither with any more words at their disposal. Unnoticed by Ashe, Basch was looking only at her, his eyes concerned—almost disappointed.

"Incidentally…" A light and curious voice interrupted the obviously tense moment. Balthier leaned against a nearby table, very aware but careless of the fact that he was speaking from his own little world. "What _is_ the going-rate for rescuing princesses these days?"

Ashelia turned away from her uncle. Slowly, she walked a defeated march from the room. Balthier's voice drabbled on in the background, but everyone else was watching Ashe. She met no one's gaze.

"Food would be a start. The good stuff, mind you," Balthier said sternly, pointing for emphasis.

Ondore answered him. "This can be arranged, though it may take some time."

"Time enough for a bath, I hope. Dirty business, you know..."

Ashelia passed Vaan, who stared after her helplessly. Riley even stared at her. Nobody said anything because there was nothing they could say.

Fran turned her eyes toward Balthier. Though his tone was masked flawlessly in a relaxed tone, he had a look in his hazel eyes that was sharp, cunning, and expertly hidden to all who didn't know him well. Fran sighed softly. None would know, but he was the only one who'd done anything about the hopeless situation—the only thing anyone could do. Diffuse it.

Fran crossed the room and half-sat against the table he was leaning on. Every so often, the man did something that reminded her of all the reasons she would not change him.

"Ah—best bring a change of clothes, too."

.~*~.

"**Don't wake me, 'cause I'm dreaming  
Of angels on the moon.  
Where everyone you know never leaves too soon."**

"I wonder what's gonna happen to everyone. Where they're all gonna go."

Riley glanced up from the work she'd been doing on her nails. Vaan was leaning against the gigantic doorjamb, his hands in his pockets, as he stared out at the magnificence that was the _Strahl_. They were lounging around in the doorway that opened into a huge hangar, where the Marquis had cleared Balthier to dock his airship. After the meeting, everyone had been given guest rooms and food and such, but the two of them were not the type to sit still in their rooms.

Riley was right across from him, the heel of her boot wedged against the doorway. It wasn't really a doorway so much as an opening in the wall. Riley shrugged. "We got a while." She went back to filing her claws to a point, using the file Fran had given her. It was hard work. She was glad to know her nails were tough, though.

"I know, but after," Vaan muttered. "I wonder if Ashe'll be able to do it."

"Well yeah. If nothing else, she's determined about it."

"Mm." Vaan stretched and put his hands behind his head. He looked over at the intricate airship again. "I guess she's gonna try all she can. Basch too, and Vossler wherever he's at." Vossler hadn't got back yet, even though night was falling and it'd been hours. "I'm just gonna hate sitting around in Rabanastre."

Riley didn't look up. "We've got a while," she said lightly.

Vaan nodded, but of course he was still thinking about it. "Wonder where the pirates'll go."

Riley hummed her agreement. The only other sound between them was the wind flowing through the open hangar and the gentle back-and-forth grinding of Riley's nail file.

"I don't think we'll all have to leave each other for a while," Riley finally said.

"How come not?"

She shrugged. "That's what I was worried about last time we were here, but it didn't happen."

"…I don't know if we'll get lucky twice," Vaan said doubtfully.

Riley finally looked up from her nails to pout at him. She momentarily removed her boot from the wall and lazily swung it at his, kicking his shoe a little. "Don't be like that. Be serendipitous."

"Well heck if I could be serendipitous on command I would, but luck doesn't really seem to listen to me." He laughed a little, and Riley grinned in reply.

"…I bet Penelo wants to go home." Riley's voice was quiet and she kept her eyes on her nails.

"She got kidnapped, Riley. She never wanted to leave in the first place."

"She's not kidnapped now!"

"I'm pretty sure she's had enough though."

Riley groaned, tilting her head back so that it cracked against the wall. "Well why didn't she wanna leave?" she whined, looking back his way. Vaan was staring at the _Strahl_ again. "Didn't you say you always dreamed of leaving?"

"Yeah."

"So? She'd let you leave without her? Or she'd anchor you down 'cause she didn't wanna go?"

"She'd come with me. I can't get rid of her."

Riley looked down at their shoes. "You don't wanna get rid of her. Don't say that."

Vaan sighed, nearly a groan. "Of course I don't. It's just…I want excitement, and danger. For me. You know? But I don't want her _in_ danger."

"Oh. You're like Balthier!" she deduced, jabbing her nail file at him.

"Nah," he replied, twisting up his face like he smelled something bad. "He's not worried about any of us getting hurt. He doesn't want us around because he doesn't want us around. It's just his greed is stronger than his grouchiness."

Riley thought back to the Sandsea, and the "appropriated" house they let her sleep in, and the ride over here on the stolen Atomos. "I dunno," she murmured, her tone light. "If he wanted to be alone, he'd get rid of Fran."

"Fran's different."

"So's everyone else then. And Basch. He likes Basch."

"He doesn't like us."

Riley laughed aloud, giving him an "are you stupid" look. "Cause we an_noy_ him, duh! It's fun!" Vaan actually did crack a grin at that and didn't disagree. "And he doesn't like havin' to look after us."

"I don't need any looking after!" Vaan snapped suddenly.

Riley did well to hide her hurt because she understood, and because her pain right then was shallow and pointless anyway. "My point is he _worries_ about us. He doesn't want to, but he cares about some things. He does good things."

Vaan snorted. "Well he doesn't want to, you just said it yourself."

Riley's lips curled into a windy, devilish grin. She couldn't believe how perfect this was. "Does it matter?"

Shocked, Vaan met her eyes, unable to come up with an answer. Understanding well his surprise, she nodded smugly and knowingly.

Suddenly, something close by made a sound like a metallic thud. Both teens snapped into alert, looking immediately towards the Strahl. The two glanced at each other, then back to the ship.

"You hear that?"

"Riley, shut up."

"I heard it again!"

"C'mon."

They ran out along the bridge that stretched out to the door of the _Strahl_, Vaan's metal-tipped shoes clanging against the metallic surface. He reached the door first and scrambled for the latch. Both of them jumped back to make room as the door opened, then rushed inside, Vaan leading.

Once they were inside, Vaan slowed down, putting out an arm in front of Riley. He put a finger to his lips and they went the rest of the way silently.

The narrow corridor that lead to the cockpit was only wide enough for a single-file line. Riley's boots were easily made silent because most of the floor was wooden—a quality which she loved in the ship. But Vaan's shoes were Rabanastran armor sandals; he had to go slow to keep them from clacking. They made a slow trip down the corridor, which ordinarily wasn't such a long trip, but the suspense was being a jerk. It took forever to get through. Riley had to constantly get on her tiptoes to look over Vaan's shoulder.

Finally they got to the door of the cockpit. Light spilled into the dark corridor. The two rows of chairs that were lined up in single-file on either side of the the cockpit cast harsh shadows across the floor. Clicking sounds came from somewhere up front. As they crept closer, Vaan could just make out a figure sitting in the pilot's chair.

"What're you doing?"

Ashe nearly leapt out of her skin. She spun around in the chair, heart thumping in her throat. But then she saw who it was. Ok…just the kid. Not as bad as she thought, but still bad. She was caught. With a sigh, she turned back around.

"This is _Balthier's_ ship!" Vaan took a step forward, but Riley still couldn't see past him plus all the chairs.

"Who is it!" She danced and skipped around behind him, bobbing her head like a chocobo. But when the person spoke, Riley knew immediately who she was.

"I'm going to retrieve the Dawn Shard. It's the proof that I need." Ashe was already working at the controls, spending most of her time just searching for the right switches.

Riley finally broke aside of Vaan, and incredulously glanced back and forth between Ashe and the door behind them. "She—how did she…how'd you get past us?"

"Riley," Vaan groaned. "_Please_ shut up."

"How'd you get—we were standing in the only entrance!"

"Riley!" He shoved her by the shoulder, causing her to tip over into one of the chairs, letting out a small squeal. Vaan ignored her and advanced on Ashelia, stalking forward. "Ashe—what's going on?"

"I know where it's hidden…" Ashe muttered softly. "I'll return his airship _later_."

"Are you crazy?"

Ashelia stopped what she was doing, leaning back in the chair. She closed her eyes briefly, then turned on Vaan with blind and infallible determination. "This is something that I have to do. Not only for myself, but for all those who have fallen. I will not be made to hide!"

She huffed impatiently, bitterly, turning back to the controls. "I'll fight alone if I must."

"You still have Basch, right?" Vaan challenged. "Besides, you can't just go around stealing people's ships. What're you trying to do?"

"I'm _trying_ to concentrate!" she snapped, standing up to confront him properly.

"That's quite enough, Your Majesty," said a static-y kind of voice that almost sounded like Ondore.

Riley screamed like a maniac, leaping out of her chair. All eyes turned to the doorway—but instead of the Marquis, there stood Balthier, his arm propped over his head on the doorjamb, with some little device raised to his mouth. "What do you think?" he asked, and the machine translated it into Ondore's voice again. "A bit over the top?"

Balthier waltzed into the cockpit, switching the voice-box off so he could talk normally. "In my line of work, you never know when something like this might come in handy." He raised the device again, peering darkly at Ashe as he said, in her voice this time, "I'm trying to concentrate."

He glanced down at the box, switched it off, and stared right at her. A smile turned up the corner of his mouth.

"Balthier, you freaking _weasel!_" Riley breathed, clutching her heart. "I could have died!"

"Get off my ship, Pet."

At first, Riley was stunned and indignant. But he glanced at her as he passed by, and she blinked in surprise when she saw the look there. It was sharp and cutting, but…fake.

"Basch was looking for you. Now _get off my ship_."

Riley gasped in realization; her lips formed a perfect **O**. She scrambled to her feet and dashed from the room. The sound of her running footsteps soon disappeared.

Balthier walked the center aisle, stopping before Ashe, pointing a finger her way. "I'm leaving you with the Marquis." He turned away, closing the matter for debate.

"You can't!" she protested desperately.

"Trust me—you're better off staying here." He was already ambling back to the door.

But just before he got there, Ashe said, "Suppose you kidnapped me instead!"

Balthier stopped. His head turned ever so slightly in her direction.

"You're a sky pirate, aren't you? Then steal me! Is that so much to ask?"

"…What do you have that I would want?"

"The Dynast-King's treasure." She could have sworn the pirate's ears perked up. He was taking her bait—or thinking about it. "The Dawn Shard is but one of the riches that lie waiting in King Raithwall's tomb."

When Balthier turned around again, there was a smirk playing on his lips. He whistled a low note, one eyebrow sneaking up his forehead. "King Raithwall, you say?"

"Kidnapping royalty is a serious offense." They all turned to see Basch entering the cockpit, still being pulled by the hand by Riley. She moved aside so Basch could come in. He came first to Balthier, offering him a very rare smirk. "It won't do much to lower the bounty on your head."

Balthier grinned back and didn't miss a beat. "How much is the price on _your_ head these days, I wonder?"

Basch had already moved on to Ashe. She locked eyes with him, and could only read sincerity. "Allow me to escort you in Vossler's place."

Silent, Ashelia nodded.

Two more appeared in the doorway; Riley had brought the whole gang, it seemed. Fran entered, leading Penelo by a hand on her back. "Will you be joining us?" she asked, her question apparently aimed at Vaan.

"What? Are you kidding? he laughed, draping his arm over the back of his chair. "I don't wanna stick around this place."

"Then I'm coming too!" Penelo threw herself into the nearest chair, clinging to the armrests.

"Penelo!" Vaan protested, earning a glance from Riley.

"Don't _leave_ me here!"

"…Of course not."

Riley, seeing that this was the moment to do so, walked over and picked the chair behind the pilot's seat. She looked around at the others expectantly, and that was her confirmation.

"Then it's settled. We should leave before the Marquis notices she is missing," Fran said from the doorway. For the very first time, Riley saw a smile turn up the viera's lips. "Like proper kidnappers."

Crossing his arms, Balthier smiled privately. He lived for these precious rare moments when Fran was amused.

.~*~.

"**If a great wave should fall,  
Yeah fall upon us all,  
Then between the sand and stone,  
Could you make it on your own?"**

She loved it on the upper decks. There was always wind up here, and on days like this, sunlight. And, usually, no Imperials. That was the case today. As she sat hugging the railing, her legs dangling out over open air, she was completely alone. Miles of open sky darted past all around her. The wind tore brutally at her dark brown curls, and the sunlight glared from overhead, stinging the delicate leather-like skin of her ears. Danica loved it this way.

She was a strong-built, broad-shouldered powerhouse of a girl, with long legs, high cheekbones, and thin brown eyes. Her clothes were mostly black or brown leather and metal; the shirt was little more than an iron vest, cut off to show her stomach—and, more importantly, her abs. It showed off every inch available of her tanned, flawless skin and corded muscles—aside from her legs, but the black leather pants were so tight you could see every curve anyway. Her knee-high, armored boots lay cast aside, allowing her clawed toes freedom as they kicked out over the side of the deck. She loved her freedom, naturally, in any small way she could get.

She guessed you could say they had more freedom now…or was it just that they had authority? Anyway. Soon she'd be away from her contingent, leaving it in the hands of her younger sister. Alika was her half-sister, but they were so different they may as well be from different planets.

Danica leaned her head against the railing of the deck, which from this position looked like endless white prison bars. One hand in a fingerless glove scratched at the patch of peeling paint she'd been working on for weeks. Danica sighed, tousling her curly, silken mane to get it out of her face. She had two days left here, then off she'd be chasing down randoms through the middle of the desert. And what about her sister? The kid was so soft. …She almost didn't want to go. Not with that Jon guy, at least. That freak was blind as a bat when he was mad—and he was mad _all_ the time. Mm. At least he looked good when he was mad. And it was very…pleasant, to watch him beating around his Imperials.

She had been aboard the Dreadnought Leviathan for the larger part of a month, coming onto the ship with her sister as the newest assigned halfbreeds to command the growing number of troops. Now, more half-viera would have to be brought in. The Judge, after his well-earned humiliation in losing his important prisoners, was turning to his war-machines to do his work for him. The nearest halfbreeds were being summoned into a search party to regain what he'd lost. In short, Ghis was gathering hitmen. Danica grinned bitterly. It was just like that overblown weakling. Once again it fell to her to make up for her superior's worthlessness.

Danica's black-tipped ears snapped flat against her head when a high-pitched voice sang out over the sound of the wind. "Daaanniiii!"

Danica thumped her forehead on the railing. Yay. Alika.

"Dani!" The smaller girl came traipsing across the deck, running in agile little leaps like a deer. She looked somewhere in her seventeen-ish years, certainly less than her sister of twenty-four. Her apparel were more loose and flowy, sort of like Bhujerban clothes converted into armor. Her features were small, and lithe, with big round eyes and a much lighter complexion than most halfbreeds. Her nose curved upward prettily just like a rabbit. The only feature the sisters seemed to share was their curly, thick hair, though Alika's was more sandy-blonde than brown.

Giggling, Alika crashed into the railing beside her sister, lifting herself up on two hands. "Hey! I knew you'd be here; you're always up here."

"What do you want?"

Alika's smile snapped off her face. She dropped back down to the floor and crossed her arms, pouting at her sister. "It's your shift, jerk."

Danica tilted back her head and groaned, highly exaggerating it. "Gross," she muttered. She took her legs out from between the rails and reached for her boots. Glancing sidelong at Alika, she asked, "How's it goin? They listen to you yet?"

"A little more, yeah. I think it's just cause you're my sister, though…If it was me on my own I'd have nothing." Alika had been taking shifts being in control of Danica's soldiers, in preparation for her full-time position when her sister left.

Danica finished yanking on her boots. She stood up, flipping her hair away from her face. "You gotta be meaner."

Alika scowled at the floor, crossing her arms even tighter. "I know."

Danica stretched her arms over her head, flexing her stiff, muscular shoulders. "Mmf…you gotta fight 'em sometimes—but make sure you win. Watch that Jon guy. He's stupid, but it works apparently."

Alika looked back up, instantly flipping back to being hyperactive. "Oh I saw him today. At the infirmary. He was madder than ever, he nearly killed one of the doctors. Threw him right through the air out into the hallway. What's he mad at the doctors for?"

"It's cause his brother's in there."

"What!" She shouted, nearly making Danica jump out of her skin. "What happened to Ally?"

"Y-you—_Ally_!"

"What's wrong with 'im?"

"How'm I supposed to know?" Danica snapped. She knew Alika was more involved with everyone around this place, but she never knew she was close enough for nicknames. Danica barely talked to anyone if she could help it. People in general annoyed her. Danica shook her head with a frustrated sigh. She was getting tired of her sister very quickly, as usual.

"I gotta go," she said, turning toward the stairs that lead back into the ship. She resisted the urge to look back. "Practice fighting. And talking less."

Left alone on the windswept deck, Alika stared at the stairs where her sister had disappeared. She didn't like it, but she was worried. Her sister was leaving soon, and the troops would be completely under her control. Danica was right. She'd have to teach them a lesson every so often. Alika shuddered, picturing Jonathan's angry, shadowy form like a giant in her mind. A giant nearly as tall as her sister.

Alika flipped her head away, turning up her nose. Dani always thought she was better than people… She was strong, in both body and mind, but she was angry and alone. Alika wished her sister would at least try to find people she didn't hate. She'd be a lot happier if she met Ally.

Alika's ears drooped sadly. What could've happened to him? She looked down the deck towards the stairs, steeling her eyes. Screw fighting practice. She wanted to see Allan.

.~*~.

"**If you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave.  
Your presence still lingers here. And it won't leave me alone.  
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears.  
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears.  
I held you hand through all of these years.  
But you still have…haunted me."**

"I wanna see Lt. Cmdr. Allan, please."

The doctor, a wiry middle-aged man with a lab coat and a thick bandage on his forehead, stared at her in surprise. Judging by the cut on his head, she figured he'd had a run-in with Jonathan. Alika stood with her hands behind her back, staring with a look of what she hoped was detached authority. Probably she shouldn't have said please. Alika held back her shoulders and, when she didn't get an answer right away, frowned angrily.

"That'd be _now_. Where is he?"

The doctor nodded in deference and quickly answered, "Right this way." Alika followed him out of the main examination room. She smiled to herself, thinking that he'd probably learned his lesson about disobeying the halfbreeds. The doctor turned down a short white hall lined with doors, and stopped before the third door down. He pushed a button on the panel beside it and the door swished open. Alika had to resist the urge to thank the man; instead, she elbowed past him and strode into the room.

Only after the door had closed behind her did she whisper, "Thanks."

She turned to the one bed occupying the room. Every recovery room in the infirmary was the same: no furniture save one bed and a tiny metal table for medical instruments. Allan was apparently asleep; his eyes were closed and his chest moved with rhythmical slowness. Instead of his regular leather and armor, he was dressed in plain linens. He'd been here a while, then—at least overnight.

Alika danced to the bedside, dropping into a crouch with her hands on the edge of the bed. Only her eyes peeked over. "Hey. Hey Al." She reached out and poked his forehead, drawing a quiet groan. "Ally! You asleep?"

Allan's eyes slowly blinked open. As the haze cleared, the first thing he saw was Alika's face two inches away from his.

Allan jumped up with a shout, his fist flying out without his knowing. Alika squeaked with laughter and she ducked just in time. Her beaming face popped back up as she stood on her knees beside the bed, while Allan started at her wide-eyed and panting.

"Alika!" he breathed, clutching his chest. "I could have died!"

It had been funny at first, but now that she saw his face, her grin fell. "Sorry, Ally," she muttered softly. "I did whisper."

"Ah…um…it's fine…" Allan leaned back against the pillows, shaking his head. He exhaled deeply, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes. He laughed quietly, dropping his hands back to the bed. "At least I'm awake now…"

Alika winced. His face was tired and pale, his eyes sunken and rimmed by black circles. He looked even worse than usual. He _needed_ that sleep. "I'm sorry Allan. I gotta go back duty in a couple hours and I didn't know how long you'd sleep for. I really just had to know why you're even _in_ here. What happened?"

Allan's face seemed to become even more weary. "Just…overworked."

Alika stopped babbling immediately. He was lying. She didn't need her powers to tell her that. "Okay," she murmured softly. "But are you alright?"

"Oh yeah—yeah," he assured, waving a hand dismissively. "Yeah um…they say all I need's time off and rest. Sucks huh? A guy's gotta collapse around here to get any shore leave."

Alika tried to mirror his grin, but only managed a weak smile. It fell off her face completely when she saw the dark crust that matted his hair at the base of his ears. "Ally I don't know if rest is gonna do it…"

Realizing what she was staring at, he reflexively raised a hand, clasping his ear. He pulled it back and thankfully didn't find any blood on his fingers. "Don' worry 'bout it." He kept looking at his hands, though, to avoid Alika's stare. "They said it's just stress."

She was silent for a long moment, so he looked up. He just barely caught sight of a yellow light leaving her eyes. He gaped at her, watching fear and sorrow twist her face.

"Allan," she muttered, voice wavering. "Oh, Allan I'm so—"

"Leave, Alika."

She squeaked in surprise, jaw dropping open. Allan's eyes were on his hands again, keeping strictly away from her gaze. "A…Ally—"

"I just need to sleep. Please leave."

She cast her eyes downward, hands clasped together, and rose to her feet. She backed up until her back was to the wall, then stopped, daring to look back at him Allan hadn't moved.

"…There's a search team being gathered," she murmured. "They're gonna send them after the escaped prisoners. SR HB-3. One spot left." Alika spun around, pounded the button on the wall, and fled the room.

Alone, Allan took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He leaned forward, hiding his face in his hands. His fingers moved towards his ears and clenched into fists around them.

"**If I could, then I would:  
I'll go wherever you will go.  
Way up high, or down low:  
I'll go wherever you will go."**

Not a half-hour later, Alika was in her quarters, and there was a knock at her door. Thinking it was most likely Danica, she got up from her desk, quickly hiding the flute she'd been playing in a random drawer. Her sister thought it was stupid for her to play music. She always said if any of the soldiers caught her doing that, they'd respect her even less.

Alika crossed the room and pressed the door-opening button. Her jaw dropped open, delight filling her eyes. "Ally!"

He was fully dressed again: a black shirt under a many-pocketed brown leather vest, which matched the leather cargo pants. A thick strap of iron chain-link crossed his chest diagonally underneath the vest. The only other metal he wore was a pair of shoulder guards, arm-braces, and shin guards. He had washed the dried blood from his hair, and even some color seemed to have returned to his face.

Allan managed a weak smile in reply to her grin. "Hey…uh—what was the name of that squad again?"

.~*~.

He hated that girl. He hated that scrawny little airheaded, bouncy ball of stupid. She had no business involving herself in things she didn't understand. Jonathan had barely ever talked to the little freak, but he'd had a few clashed with her older sister. That chick was annoying, too, but at least she was strong, and had the good sense to keep her stupid nose out of other people's business.

Now, as Jonathan stood at attention in a random meeting room, his commanding officer pacing towards him at his own request, he hated that Alika _almost_ as much as he hated Riley.

Cmdr. Montgomery, a stiff-backed tall figure of a man, stopped in front of Jon, who stared blankly at the man's shoulder rather than meet his eyes. "This better be good, mutt," Montgomery growled, removing his helmet to reveal a black buzz-cut and a pockmarked face with squinty eyes and an unkempt mustache. "I wasn't supposed to be here until noon tomorrow, and here I find myself barked at by my own dog, telling me to come early!"

"The matter was urgent, Commander." Jonathan hated this. He hated keeping back all his protests, hated not being able to glare, hated having to silently endure being barked at and degraded. But Allan had nearly begged him—and, as much as Jon hated begging, he just…frig, he had to. Stupid Al.

"Yeah well, spit it out." The Commander snapped. "I don't like special requests so hurry up."

"It is a request for a recruit for search squad SR-HB-3, sir."

"That so?" Montgomery crossed his arms, surveying Jon with judgmental eyes. "Well you're a little late for that, mutt—the party's full. Filled the last spot this morning."

Jonathan had to work hard to keep his gaze blank. "With respect, sir…my request would be a better choice."

The Commander's brow knitted together, a storm gathering. "_Who?"_

"Lt. Cmdr. Allan, sir."

"Allan?" he barked, as if that notion was ridiculous. Montgomery's mustache curled upward with his smile. "Why'd I wanna go and replace my perfect new recruit with a sick old dog?"

At his sides, Jonathan's hands curled into white-knuckled fists. He ground his teeth together, almost shaking with the effort it took to conceal his rage. It took every ounce of willpower not to shatter the man's nose.

"With…respect, sir…" he murmured, trying to restrain his voice into a monotone. "Allan is the correct choice for this task."

"Fine. _Why_ is your brother better than my boy?"

"Motivation."

Montgomery stared him down in silence. Finally, he couldn't help but ask. "I'll bite. What's that about?"

"His sister is with the prisoners." Jonathan pointedly excluded himself from the mention of siblings.

At that, the Commander's eyes widened. That was something he didn't know. The smugness fell from his face as he focused on this new revelation. "Well, but that's new," he muttered, almost to himself. Looking seriously at Jon, he continued, "Then by all rights he is the very last candidate to be considered. Matter of fact, _you_ shouldn't even be allowed on this squad—that right?"

"We hate her, sir," Jonathan dared to speak. To his relief, Montgomery actually let him speak. "She is a traitor and a disgrace that shames us. That is the power of our motivation. Allen's determination, and mine own, is to her death or recapture."

Montgomery was silent for a long time. He paced away as he thought, gears grinding in his mind. Jonathan stood in torturous suspense, his muscles aching from standing perfectly still. Finally, his commander's voice came from somewhere to the side.

"Fine."

Jonathan chanced moving his head, looking straight at Montgomery. The Commander was looking his way, so Jon immediately turned forward again. "I'll allow you this, mutt," Montgomery went on, fortunately saying nothing about the lapse in discipline. "Because of your admirable service so far. You're ruthless, Jon, and any brother of yours is bound to be as strong."

Jonathan resisted the urge to snort. Allan was anything but ruthless. But this idiot could think whatever he wanted if it got Allan on the team. "Thank you, Commander. We will not disappoint."

"Now get out and let me be so I can finally get some food," Montgomery snapped, replacing his helmet. "It's noon and I'm starving."

Jonathan crossed his arm over his iron-plated chest and stiffly bent into a bow. He spun around and stalked out of the room as fast as he could without running. He needed to get out quick before he beat his commander into a bloody pulp.

The minute he was out of hearing range, Jonathan released his pent-up rage in the form of a ferocious, bellowing scream. His metal-coated fist swung for the nearest punchable object—the wall. He left a dent at least three inches deep. He hated it—he hated them all! Everyone and everything in this slimy, impossible world conspired to make his life an inescapable torturous misery!

Jonathan ripped his arm from the wall and growled again, turning about quickly in search of anyone he might strangle. They'd all fled when he punched the wall. He took in a deep, shaky breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Geeze. Jonathan had never been so angry about winning something. He didn't know why he'd even agreed to this… Allan didn't need this. All these years she had haunted him, eroding his health and spirit away. And now she rises up out of nowhere and causes a landslide of stupidity that ended with Al in the _infirmary_. This mission was only asking for worse. Jon didn't really think it would get him killed…did he?

Yes. If he had to, Allen would die for his sister.

Jonathan hated her.

Jon stormed through the ship towards Allan's room, decking many unfortunate Imperials that passed, growling like fierce, dark death the whole way.

.~*~.

"**When you're happy like a fool.  
Let it take you over.  
When everything is out…you gotta take it in.  
Oh, this has gotta be the good life—  
A good, good life."**

Floating high above their heads like a giant metal balloon, the _Strahl's_ timing mechanism kicked in. Almost instantly, the whole ship vanished into invisible air, anchor and all. On the sandy ground below, the party watched the feat with surprise and awe—all but the pirates, of course.

"Whoa…" Penelo breathed. Beside her, Vaan stared with equal wonder, and Riley gaped with an incredulous grin.

"This come in handy often?" Ashelia asked, sarcasm lacing her voice.

Balthier half-smiled as he tugged the ends of his shirtsleeves. "It's tough being popular. Wouldn't want any admirers dropping in while we're away."

Riley laughed in gleeful devilishness. "Oh Balthier, you wonderful weasel! I gain new respect for you every day." But then, she was distracted, having caught sight of the rock face they were standing by. A grin curled her lips. It was perfectly climbable…

"Well now," Balthier announced, hooking his thumbs in his belt. "That's as far as she goes. We'll be in Jagd from here onwards."

Ashe turned around, looking toward the path ahead. "Across the Sandsea," she murmured, eyes sweeping the small parts of landscape that was visible over the peaks of cliffs. Her companion's gaze followed hers. "To the Valley of the Dead. And to King Raithwall's tomb below…"

A small squeal followed by devious laughter drew their attention. About halfway up the rock wall, Riley had slipped, but caught herself, and was now dangling by one arm and laughing triumphantly at the cliff. Below her, completely oblivious or just not caring, Vaan was talking to Penelo.

"So, when we're in Jagd, skystones don't' work at all," he lectured. "That's how come we've gotta hoof it the rest of the way. Ya see?"

"Happy you get to teach me something for a change?" Penelo teased with a laugh.

Vaan linked his hands behind his head, not getting it at all. "Well, if you wanna be a sky pirate, you've gotta know you stuff…Wait! What do you mean 'for a change'?"

"Come on. Just face it—I'm smarter than you!"

"Says who? Wanna see what _they_ think about it?"

"I wouldn't be so confident!"

Staying well out of the way, the adults watched. Crossing his arms, Balthier remarked, "At least we thought to bring entertainment."

Riley squealed again, this time followed by a muffled thud.

Though Basch was startled, Ashelia stood still beside him and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. They had a long journey ahead.

As Vaan and Penelo commenced freaking out, Riley lay in the sand right between them where she'd fallen, all the while laughing maniacally. She'd laugh forever. She would laugh forever as long as life was like this. Life right now was a beautiful adventure on the dangerous road with people she wouldn't leave for the world. She'd be happy forever if this could last.

If this could last.

.~*~.

**A/N:** Shewf! So what'd you guys think? Longest chapter yet, I do believe. Doubtless I'll have to go back like ten million times to edit it, because it's midnight as I finish this and there's NO WAY I'mma proofread now. Hahah :P

I'm kinda starting to like long chapters. =] And I luff mah new OCs! XD

**Lyric headings:** "Crystal Ball" by P!nk, "Nothing Lasts Forever" by Maroon Five, "Angels on the Moon" by Thriving Ivory, "Wherever You Will Go" by The Calling, "Haunted" by Evanescence, "Wherever You Will Go" again, and "Good Life" by OneRepublic.


	11. AN 2

Okay, here goes another author's note to mess up my chapter numbering again. XP

=] Jk. I wanted to let you guys know that since I'm in COLLEGE NAO (*confetti and streamers*) things are crazy hectic and fanfiction has been low on the priority list. I'm settling into a schedule and dealing with freshmanship and separation issues and all that rot (I say rot in honor of Balthier, whom I miss terribly at the moment…), so writing for now is gonna hafta be between all the classes and work I gotta do.

When I'm not doing homework.

Do you guys have any idea how much they make you READ? I mean I'm a fanficer so I like reading but there's no history book about Drizzt and Legolas fighting off Imperial soldiers on the Black Pearl in the seas of Narnia.

If there was, the world would explode.

Sooooooooooo chapter eight. May be. Delayed. I'm. Very. Sorry. Bleep blop boop….

^I thought my slow transformation into a robot would make this more amusing.

~Flare


	12. Eventually

Vaan's Dalmascan sandals sank into the terrain, kicking up sand in tiny sprays like the surf of the sea. He stepped lightly as he approached the shore, not knowing if the bank might crumble under his feet. He knelt carefully, reaching out to dip his hand into the waters of the Ogir-Yensa Sandsea.

He scooped a handful of sand and water and let it seep through his fingers, falling back into the…the ocean? The only name for it was its given one—sandsea—and now he knew why. Instead of sinking to the bottom, the sand floated in the water at every depth. Both mixed together perfectly, blended into a constantly shifting enigma that was neither water nor land, but both.

Vaan breathed a sigh of amazement. He'd never seen anything like it. Could you swim it? he wondered. What would happen if someone fell in? He cringed away from the image of himself being sucked under the surface, helplessly caught in the Sandsea like a giant lake of quicksand. He stood up and looked out over the endless ocean. It was unnerving, but thrilling that he couldn't see the end of it.

"Vaan!" Penelo's voice called, floating across the solid sand-covered ground behind him.

He turned around and went to re-join his companions again. Everyone was milling around while Basch and Balthier stood on an upraised hilltop, searching out their best course with the map of Ogir-Yensa that Balthier had dug out of his least-used desk drawers. Balthier was just stepping down from the hilltop to rejoin the rest.

Basch's gaze roamed carefully over the paper. Penelo stood curiously by his side, peering at the map over his arm.

"So," Penelo asked, "where exactly is Raithwall's tomb?"

"…Far to the West." Bash looked out across the landscape, his eyes re-drawing the map across the rolling duns and rocky cliffs. "We must first cross the Ogir-Yensa, and beyond that the Nam-Yensa, before we reach the tomb. And expanse of desert larger still than all of Dalmasca," he announced, gently re-folding the map along its worn creases. As he handed the map back to Balthier, he said sternly to Penelo, "We must pace ourselves. If you grow tired, we stop and take rest."

Penelo laughed and linked her fingers behind her back, rocking on her heels. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm tougher than I look."

A smile split Basch's lips. A low, but audible chuckle escaped him. "You are at that."

Riley watched her from the background and seriously doubted. "You ever even fought before?" she piped up.

Penelo and Basch turned to find Riley a distance away, standing with her arms crossed, all her weight shifted to one foot and one knee bent in front of her. The perfect grouchy teenager pose.

"I fought plenty. You saw me on the ship."

Riley turned away and let the Ogir-Yensa wind tousle her hair haphazardly. She reached up a hand to rub her ear, shaking out sand. "Not Imperials. Desert fighting."

Penelo took a moment to rest her hands on her hips, laying her palm across the pommel of a dagger belted at her side. "I've fought with Vaan in the Dalmascan Estersand countless times and I made my way completely alone through the mines of Bhujerba."

"Bhujerba and the Estersand." Riley didn't laugh aloud, but her eyes were bitter mirth. "Okay! Awesome. Sorry."

Penelo's teeth ground together, and Riley was so entertained by it that she missed the heavy gaze she was getting from Basch. Penelo replied in the very next beat, "What've _you_ ever fought besides steelings and hoplites? Where have you been?"

The wind whipped tiny, burning vines of hair in front of Riley's eyes, which reflected nothing save the pale rolling sand of the landscape she looked at.

Suddenly turning away, she snapped the conversation off abruptly, missing whatever effects it had on the other two.

"Can we _go_ now?" she griped, darted over to Vaan and grabbed his arm, shaking him impatiently. "We been standing around for like twenty minutes."

"…Yeah," the blonde muttered, as if just realizing it. "Let's get going already." He turned to Balthier, who acquiesced with a wave of his hand. Leaning on Vaan as a prop by her arm across his shoulder, Riley wore the smirk of an imp.

This boy was wrapped like a string on her finger. And Balthier was a yo-yo on the other end. This was freedom–had to be. This was good freedom.

A freezing flash of ruby caught her eye. Riley's grin faded, eyes re-occupied by watching Fran stride past her. As she passed, she flipped her head casually so that her spider-silk hair whipped like stinging feathers across the half-viera's face. In flinching, Riley was knocked from her post on Vaan's shoulder.

Balthier followed his partner, and though his eyes were sharp, they did not meet Riley's. Soon everyone was walking, beginning the journey off across the sandsea, but for a moment, Riley stood gazing at their backs.

"Miss Fran…?"

.~*~.

"**So when did you decide  
To embrace what you hate to survive?  
Is that what got us here?  
But she can't turn the other cheek."**

"I hate the desert."

The wind swept over the plains, carrying a rain of sand with it in a rushing blanket, muffling her voice as it swept right over her. Danica squinted and hid her eyes behind her arm as the wall of sand blasted her full in the face. Each one was like a tiny bullet; it got all over her clothes and tangled up her thick curls—at least those that weren't covered by the thick cloth bandanna she wore to protect her ears.

When it had passed, she released a feral, whining growl, spitting the sand out of her mouth. "I _hate_ the desert!" she screamed again, not about to be silenced by this stupid place. "_Why_ are we even out here? I had a whole contingent to command, and greenhorns to train, and they've got us on retrieval, like dogs after a bone. We're at a disadvantage in nature—why send halfbreeds into the maddening silence of the wilderness? It makes no sense!"

"_Shut up!"_ a harsh voice snarled. Jonathan ground his teeth as he whirled towards his companion, a dog-like growl resonating deep in his throat.

Ignoring the female's sudden, vicious stare of outrage, Jon turned away again, returning to the silent trek. A motion beside him drew his attention; Allan's hand was clapped over his head; though he couldn't see for the bandanna, Jon knew it was his ears giving him trouble. "Sorry, Al," he muttered with little conviction.

"Nah. It was her." A minute of silence went by awkwardly before Allan added, "Ok no it's you. You're real loud sometimes, Jon."

"Yeah well, talk to the Pansy Duchess back there."

Danica just barely resisted the urge to sink her claws into his windpipe. "You're such a soldier," she muttered blackly, struggling as she slipped on the shifting ground.

Her boot sank into the sand as they ascended yet another dune, the sun beating down with pale light—the sun here seemed millions more miles away, but at least a hundred times as hot. Her metal armor was scalding. The air was hot. The sand _in_ the air was hot. Her eyes stung and her ears ached from behind tied down. And worse…she couldn't use the Mist here. Nothing was man-made, so it was nothing that she heard. Danica hated the desert just as much as she hated Jonathan.

Danica plunged her boot down into the sand again, looking not down at her feet but to the spurs of cliffs far ahead, which promised shade and shelter from wind. But no, that only made her think of how miserable it was out here, and how long a walk they had. She hated it. Misery into hatred, that was how she'd get by. That was how he endured.

But then her eyes turned to the younger brother, the one who was always quiet when there were hateful things to say. How did Allan do it? What kept him going? Jon had claimed revenge as their motivation, and clearly that was the case with him, but she didn't need to Mist to know that Allan did not hate his sister. What, then? Love?

…No. He _couldn't_; he was miserable and burdened. These were not symptoms of love. A shadow clouded his eyes with every step and never was the girl's name mentioned. There had been only silence from him, and thunderous rage from his brother, when upon the journey's beginning Danica asked why they hunted their sister. All she got were accusations—it was her stupid sister's fault in the first place. Jon made it clear that he didn't want Allan on this mission. Or her—and she completely agreed with him there! He wanted it for himself, though.

He would walk this burning desert alone if he could. He'd do it without fear. Idiot.

But a strong idiot.

Danica stopped in her tracks. Among the wind and constant rain of sand, she heard something else.

"Wolves," she barked. The two males stopped and snapped to alert, all eyes turning left. Yips and growls floated out over the wind, increasing in volume.

Out came the weapons. Danica was first, whipping out two finely-crafted blades. From the sheath at her hip she took a gracefully curved scimitar. Her second came from a sheath on her left shoulder: a feral dagger with a serrated blade viciously shaped to resemble fire. Allan drew a broadsword from his back, one curiously devoid of any unique markings or shape. As they were drawing blades, however, Jonathan surprised the female—he started running in the direction of the wolfcry, nothing but fists in his hands. He disappeared over the arc of the sand dune and sounds of battle erupted.

She glanced to Allan, gaping. The younger brother half-grinned and shrugged, pointing with his sword towards Jonathan even as he broke into a run to follow him. Danica followed immediately, half expecting to find the jar-headed lunatic rolling in the sand with wolf jaws clamped around his neck.

She found him instead surrounded by a ring of vicious dogs, swinging punches like some mighty, mindless savage, fighting with his bare hands. He threw punches and slashed across with sweeping backhands that, for some reason, brought yowls of pain from the wolves. After a moment of confusion wherein she could only stare, Danica saw a pattern. Looking closely, she saw it: his gauntlets. Through some bizarre mechanism, he'd concealed about three rows of claws in them—actually, they were small daggers—which he now used to rip into his victims as they came. When he delivered one wolf a kick to the jaw, she saw that his boots were similarly barbed.

Danica put away her knives.

There were four wolves. By the time Allan got there, they had all been wounded grievously. As his brother fought, Allan walked slowly among the fray, sword held down to the ground as opposed to any normal fighting stance. As he came within striking distance of the first wolf, it tried to lunge at him. Jon's fist got in its way.

A broadsword moved slowly through the air. In a flash of silver silence, it lashed out with serpent speed. The wolf fell, and Allan moved on. He circled around as Jon kept the remaining two at bay. It was hard to hear who was howling more, the wolves or the metal-coated halfbreed that fought them. Unexpected, the silver snake struck again, and another of his brother's victims left its suffering.

Jon faced his last opponent, locking its eyes. Both gazes lost in one primal stare, the two combined their snarling sounds of battle declaration, of assertion and blind, wondrously meaningless violence. They lunged for each other in the exact moment by a silent cue heard by both.

Allan turned away. As he walked back toward the female, re-sheathing his sword, his eyes were downcast and nothing but tired. Danica stared, helpless to look away, to do as Allan could. In the background, Jonathan ripped the lone wolf apart.

.~*~.

"**Now we're grown-up orphans that  
Never knew our names.  
We don't belong to no one—that's a shame.  
You could hide beside me, maybe for a while.  
And I won't tell no one your name."**

Ashe's blade rang once more, turned aside by razor-sharp talons. Without missing a beat, she threw up her own shield to deflect the incoming blow from her opponent's snapping beak. The cockatrice fell back with an angry squawk, its tiny arms clutching at its crushed face.

Ashelia had another blow ready in seconds. As she struck, another blade sank into the bird at the exact same time as her sword.

Following the sword up its owner's arm, she found Basch. The captain withdrew his sword from the dying foe. In reply to her stare, he dipped his head in a slow nod, re-sheathing his sword.

Ashe snapped her sword back into place and strode past him. "I would have killed it on my own."

"Your Majesty did not have to."

That was almost enough to stop her in her tracks. However, all she offered was a small pause.

As Basch watched her walk away, he tried very hard to resist the image that came to his mind. Nevertheless, one picture escaped: the fully-grown princess slung over the knees of old Marquis Ondore as he spanked her with a folded-up belt.

Since he was alone, Basch allowed himself a smile. Such humiliation would do the woman some good.

"What are you grinning about so deviously?" a voice startled the smile from his face; he turned to see Balthier striding up beside him, thumbs hooked on his belt. "I didn't know such an expression could live on your heroic face, Captain."

"I don't know what you mean."

Balthier coughed, but underneath it he clearly had said, "Rot."

Basch's stony face held for a moment, before finally it cracked into a dismissive snort as Basch shook his head. "Rot," he repeated. "That means lies, doesn't it?"

"Oh, lies, nonsense…heath and rotten chocobo feed, that sort of thing." The corners of Balthier's mouth curled upward and he peered sidelong at the Captain, who only shook his head and knelt beside the cockatrice to start collecting loot.

The fact that they were fighting cockatrices meant that they must be approaching new lands. Up until now, they'd fought with wolves mostly, having few encounters with the flightless, rolling birds. But now, where the cliffs were higher and thicker, there were less wolves. The landscape could hardly be called such anymore; this was more like the winding paths of Giza. But in desert form. They still had a long ways to go, however. They'd not even crossed the Rozzarian oil mines yet.

Basch had finished looting. He stood from the kill with a handful of gil-fetching cockatrice feathers and held them out to Balthier.

"No," he pirate answered casually. "Those are your share, remember."

Basch's silence caused him to glance up. He was amazed to find a _second_ mischievous grin hinting around the soldier's lips.

"You…" Balthier stuttered, eyes narrowing. "Was that some test of honor or some such rubbish?" He pointed for emphasis, glaring at the captain with a suspicious eye.

"Rot," Basch answered, stuffing the feathers in his bag. He walked off to rejoin Ashe, leaving Balthier to stare after him incredulously. A chuckle escaped him. It was quickly followed, insuppressible, until Balthier was overtaken by a deep, genuine laughter that he had never felt the like of before.

"That's not how you _use_ the bloody word!" he called as he sauntered along behind. If Basch heard him, he didn't turn around. But even as he talked with the princess, Balthier could read a hidden smirk on the man's scarred face.

Balthier shook his head, his grin slowly fading away as he came upon a striking thought. Basch wasn't always like this. There had to be some time, some place in the future, when Captain Ronsenberg would reign in his stead. This kind of bantering laughter couldn't hold in soldier's minds.

Therein the question lies. Is Basch still a soldier?

…Of course not. No soldier would swashbuckle words with a sky pirate.

And no pirate would ever share a hearty laugh with a soldier.

….

All the others were dead; this was the last one left. She had to finish it quickly, or her pack would steal it from her. Riley crept like a spider as she circled the cockatrice, knees always staying bent, her shoulders arched with tension, talon-like claws ready to strike. Her pupils were pinpoints, ears laid flat against her head. One blow, she needed one final strike.

She threw a snarl from the back of her throat; the cockatrice replied with its own shriek. On some unknown cue, they both stopped circling. Knowing by some silent instinct what was next, Riley leaned back on one leg, poised for a spring.

In a tiny moment, the cockatrice twitched its stick-like legs—and Riley's feral eyes didn't miss it.

By the time the bird could release its pounce, Riley was already diving forward. A vicious snarl tore from her lips; her eyes widened in hungry anticipation. The halfbreed's claws reached forward, almost able to feel the tender, vulnerable flesh of prey…

A split second before her claws sank into her victim, an arrow smacked into the creature in the exact spot she'd been aiming for. Riley jerked her hand back as the cockatrice fell back, screeching with its dying last breaths. The bird fell, quite dead, leaving Riley to glance across the battle field with a hungry gaze. There were no more enemies. But she was far from satiated…

At the touch of a hand on her shoulder, Riley yelped and spun around. Her eyes met a cold pair of ruby jewels.

"_Fran!_" Riley jerked away from the viera's hand, stepping back into a battle-crouch. She bore her teeth and growled, brandishing her claws like talons, eyes staring threateningly into the woman's calm, stony face.

A heartbeat later, she realized what she was doing.

The growling stopped immediately; the scowl left her face as if someone had slapped it off. Slowly, her eyes widened, pupils returning to their normal size.

"Miss…Miss Fran?" she breathed, her voice cracking.

"That," the viera's cool, exotic voice murmured. "was _not_…the proper time."

Riley stared helplessly as the woman walked past her and toward the rest of their group. Fran's path took her past a second cockcatrice—one that Riley'd had her way with. Fran stopped, glanced pointedly at the mauled carcass, its flesh torn beyond recognition, with patched of skin and feathers replaced by bloody, open skin.

"Any loot on that one, Fran?" Balthier's voice came from the other side of the field.

"…No," she answered, without looking away from the animal. "Nothing is left."

As the viera resumed her strong and calm stride, Riley could only stare at the ground. It took all she could not to look at the cockatrice's body as she followed after Fran.

They all resumed their vast trek across the Ogir-Yensa shortly after. The desert was not quite as hot as the Estersand, because though the Sandsea was half-sand, it was also half-water. Through the ingenuity of the sky pirates, they'd found a way to sift the sand from the water, and found to much relief that it was fresh water, despite being called a "sea." So their water-packs were never empty, and as for food, they hadn't needed any yet.

But it was hard. She'd never walked so much desert in her life…and though the wind was always blowing, it was more of a hindrance than any heat relief. It was annoying trying to get through the sandy gusts of wind…and painful. Every five minutes she had to clear the sand out of her ears—a very painful and nearly useless process. Her head was pounding, too. She didn't know it that was really normal. But it was just the sun, probably.

It was nearing noon when Riley happened to glance up from her feet and realize that she was far behind the others. What the…when did that happen? She hadn't even noticed they weren't there. She could've sworn she saw movement in her peripheral…wait. She still did. Little black spots were dancing around just outside the fringes of her vision.

…Probably the sun.

Shaking her head (a mistake, she realized when it increased her headache), Riley broke into a jog to catch up. It turned out to be a pretty bad idea. Every step pounded like a drum in her aching head, and before she'd closed half the distance between them, she became aware that he couldn't see. The black spots had gotten bigger.

Riley slackened to a walk, then stopped altogether, covering her face with her hands. Whoa man. Head rush. What the heck… She felt something trickle down the side of her face. Thinking it was sweat, she didn't even bother wiping it away.

The weirdness was over as soon as it started. Figuring running really wasn't the best plan, Riley speed-walked instead to catch up to the others. She took her place in the back of the group, where Penelo was walking in the shadow cast by Basch's tall frame.

A small gasp drew Riley's attention; she glanced over to see Penelo staring at her—well, at the top of her head.

"Riley—You're bleeding!"

At the front of the line, Balthier stopped, halting the trek. He turned around, and the others followed his eyes.

"Haa…?" Riley stopped and glanced down at her arms, then legs, but didn't see anything.

"No, your ears," Penelo urged, pointing.

Riley reached up a hand to her ear and gripped it in a fist—boy, was that a mistake. She yelped loudly and jerked away her hand, grimacing. Of course, the pain only made her want to slap her hand over her ear to make it stop.

"Riley?" Vaan's voice piped in with concern. He was ignored, though.

Basch was closest and got there first. "Don't touch them," he instructed, pulling her hand away from her head. There was blood in her palm.

"What is it, then?" Balthier joined them; he immediately spotted the blood. He placed his hands on her head, thumbs prying her ear upright so that he could see inside. Riley yelped in protest and tried to jerk away, but Basch placed a hand on her shoulder. She settled for a continuous, low whine. And she didn't jerk away again, because she realized that Balthier's hands were surprisingly gentle. His scent fell over her: the aroma of his leather vest mixed with...cedarwood. That's the closest thing she could think of that compared to his cologne.

Breathing in the rich scent, Riley nearly laughed. Balthier was the only man she knew who would think to wear cologne to the desert.

"Well it's no outside wound…" he muttered absently, at a loss. Finally, he shook his head and took his hands away. "Blast it—Fran, will you do this? I've no idea how to fix viera ears."

He stepped aside and disgustedly shook the blood from his fingers as Fran took his place. Her hands were pleasantly cold and so gentle it was hard to tell where she was touching. Fran's scent was nothing but her soft skin, and as her hair shifted, Riley picked up the sweet jasmine that must have been in her shampoo.

Riley crossed her arms tightly and glared at nothing in particular. This was gonna take forever…She was holding up the journey. She didn't like being on the spot like this, either.

"It's the sand," Fran finally stated, turning to Balthier with a hand held out. "Cloth."

Eyes widening, Penelo clamped her mouth shut as Balthier drew a white handkerchief from a pocket beneath his vest. He handed it over to Fran, and she reached for Riley's ear again.

She shouldn't make a big deal about it. Practicality was more important. But as blood and dirt stained the cloth, Riley's painful yelps grating against her ears, Penelo's jaw clenched in silence. He could've used a different one. An oil-remedy cloth. Something else. It didn't matter, but…

"Your ears are different than full viera," Fran was saying as she finally finished. From her bag she took another cloth of dark green, fine material. Brushing back Riley's hair, she tied it around her head as a bandanna. "They catch the wind. You must keep them safe from the desert's breath."

"How come yours don't 'catch the wind?'" Riley mumbled sullenly, pushing her tangled curls behind her shoulders.

"They do. The sand is blown away again before it can damage them."

That made sense. Sucked for her, but eh. It was okay now. A beaming smile suddenly appearing on her face, Riley spun around. "Thank you Miss Fran."

The viera nodded. As Riley turned away, Penelo could've sworn her eyes flickered her way for a split second.

"Well," Balthier announced, drawing everyone's attention. "As long as we're stopped, may as well take a rest and eat something. Anyone see a cave or some such out in this heath?"

"Ahead are the remains of the old oil stations," Basch offered. "It won't do much for shade, but no enemies should venture there."

The pirate shrugged. "Leastways no strong ones." Basch nodded his reply.

"Yay!" Riley's voice chirped. "Metalwork!"

"Indeed," Balthier answered absently. "You'll not have to bear the silence of nature for much longer."

Riley hummed contentedly and followed along. She would be glad to get back into a place where her powers worked. She wasn't unused to it, since she'd made a lot of trips to places where artificially-made things were scarce, but it was always a relief getting back to good old man-made structure.

.~*~.

"**They said, oh—**

**Teenagers scare the living o_0 outta me!**

**They can care less, as long as someone'll bleed!**

**Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me.**

**All together now!"**

Riley's claws sank into the sand, sending her slipping back down the sand dune a few inches. She climbed back up again amidst a series of quiet grunts; her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, so great was her concentration. Over the lip of the sand-dune appeared a pair of bright red ears, slowly followed by two saucer-sized eyes.

"Whoa…" Riley breathed, barely more than a whisper.

Then, the mighty reptilian king who paced on the other side emitted a short but ear-splitting growl, sending Riley ducking for cover with a yelp. Fortunately, the creature's sound masked her own.

Safe in the shade of the sand-dune, Riley rolled onto her back, biting her knuckles with an ecstatic grin. A Wild Saurian! She'd never seen one before in her life, despite numerous trips to the Estersand. They were only supposed to live there, right? So it was extremely rare to find one out in the Ogir-Yensa. And it was even more lucky she'd found it now. They were almost to where the oil drilling things were supposed to be, and once they were up there, there'd be almost nothing dangerous at all. Riley had heard this one roaring about with her halfbreed ears. Naturally, she'd done what any smart idiot would do—sneaked away to have a look.

A high-pitched squeal escaped her; she purposely made it so high-pitched that it was silent. The bubble of adrenaline-laden delight fading, she resolved that she wanted another look. Riley peeked over the dun again. The enormous lizard-like beast's footsteps actually thumped as it pounded around its kingdom, its regal head swaying back and forth as it sniffed here and there for the trace scents of prey. Riley grinned again…but the initial thrill had faded, and merely peeking in was not enough.

She'd have to get closer.

Her tongue in the corner of her mouth, Riley grinned devilishly and placed her hands on the lip of the sand-dune, beginning to stand.

"Riley!" someone called from behind.

She was down again in a flash, glancing all around as one hand clutched at her pounding heart. Her eyes found the source of the sound, and boy howdy gee was she mad when she saw who it was.

"Vaan!" she hissed. "I could have died you moron!"

Incredibly, the idiot started walking towards her, his boots crunching noisily over the rocky sand.. "What're y—"

"Wh—wouldju—be quiet!" Riley hissed through her teeth, staring with an incredulous glare. She darted forward and yanked him down behind the sand dune. "Look at what's down there," she whispered, barely more than a breath.

Insulted as he was, Vaan was more bewildered and curious, so he did look. Immediately, he whispered some incoherent curse and ducked back down. "Riley," he snapped, still whispering "What the heck are you doing? That's a Saurian!"

"Heck yeah it's a Saurian..." Riley crept forward, pulling her head just over the lip of the sand dune. A mischievous grin curled her lips.

"Riley…" Vaan muttered suspiciously. With a mischievous chuckle, Riley again made as if to stand up. She got halfway there before Vaan yanked her back down. "Riley no!" He sounded like he was taking to a pet dog. "You're gonna get us killed!"

"I want a closer look."

"Freaking _no_. Come on, we're leaving before we die."

"Wait!" she pleaded, pulling at his arm. Vaan stopped, groaning as quietly as he could. Riley tugged him back into the hiding spot, making him join her in looking down at the magnificent monster. "Just look at the thing…"

He looked at it. It was at least five thousand pounds of dust-coated scales, rippling across muscles that could crush a person with no effort, and talons each as thick as a grown man's leg. As he watched, the great titan opened its mouth as it was sniffing a particular portion of the ground. A shudder coursed Vaan's spine at the sight of its teeth.

"You're smiling."

Vaan looked over at Riley, who was grinning smugly. He frowned angrily. But it couldn't hold.

"Yeah," he conceded with a grin. "Fine. I get it."

Riley stifled a giggle, turning back toward the Saurian. It had turned its back to them, its massive tail sweeping back and forth with a force that could clear trees.

"Vaan! Perfect chance!"

Before he could respond, she had snatched up his arm and yanked him to his feet, with a measure of strength that surprised him. And then they were running. Panic thrilled his heart as they burst over the edge of the sand-dune, with nothing around but open air to expose them.

Vaan could only stare at the massive creature as Riley jerked him along in full flight. They half-slid down the bank and scrambled at the bottom to regain their feet—Riley hadn't let go, and now she pulled at him again; he was pretty sure she nearly dislocated his shoulder. Adrenaline was all he felt—adrenaline and the thrill of terror, coursing like lightning through his veins.

When he spared a glance ahead, he saw what Riley was headed for: a clump of dead, leafless bushes about twenty feet away from the scaled giant. In an instant, they reached it, ducking down behind the sparse cover. Panting, Vaan squeezed his body into the smallest amount of space he could possibly occupy. The Saurian hadn't seen them, but it was turned back around. They'd only just made it out of its line of vision in time.

Riley's muffled, insane whispers of twisted laughter came from beside him.

"You maniac!" he hissed, but he wasn't really mad. Riley's answer was another burst of stifled cackling. Vaan jerked his hand away. "You bruised my wrist," he laughed, rubbing the painful joint.

"Shh!—shut up," Riley giggled, smacking his arm with the back of her hand.

"Whoa man…" Vaan was looking at the Saurian again, gaping as in awe. "That thing's freakin' huge."

"I know right! Oh look—look at its teeth…"

"Holy—It's looking right at us!" Vaan laughed frantically, and so did Riley, both of them snorting and sniffing in an attempt to keep it quiet. In the background, mighty footsteps shook the ground, jarring the pebbles around the kids' feet.

Finally, something clicked into place in Vaan's brain. Right. At. Them.

Grins fading, the teenagers locked glances, their eyes widening slowly.

They looked back at the massive creature, just in time to meet a gigantic, gaping maw hovering inches away, breathing warm and wet breath that smelled of decay past its jagged, yellow, rotting rows of crushing fangs. The monstrosity roared, the force of it blasting back the bushes as well as their clothes and hair like a saliva-ridden hurricane. In the next second, the outrageous jaws slammed shut with a force of a thousand-ton steel trap.

The Saurian got only dead bushes. Rearing back, it shook his monumental head back and forth, flinging away the offending taste—while, momentarily forgotten, its prey scrambled away across the sand.

Vaan dragged Riley along this time—there something wrong with her or something. When the Saurian roared, she'd clamped her hands over her ears and yelled out in pain. Even now as Vaan pulled her along, she gripped one ear with her free hand, eyes screwed shut in pain. She stumbled along and was really impeding their speed.

Behind them, he heard the Saurian roar again, followed by the thunder of its footsteps.

Vaan sped up despite Riley, forcing her to keep up. The thrill was gone; there was only adrenaline and fear. But he wasn't completely blind. He knew where he was going—their group shouldn't be that far ahead. He ran in their general direction, hoping for life's sake that they weren't far. Chancing a glance over his shoulder, he caught a horrible glimpse of the giant lumbering after them, swinging its head and as it snarled in a wild frenzy.

"Sweet Dalmasca, Riley!" Vaan shouted over the noise. He hardly needed to try to put on a burst of speed.

….

"What's that?"

Balthier stopped and turned around, following Penelo's gaze to the landscape behind them. He didn't see anything, but after everyone had stopped, he did hear something in the absence of the group's footsteps. All eyes began to look toward the path behind them. Penelo, first to hear, stepped out in front, squinting to try and see farther. A row of sand dunes blocked her sight about fifty feet back. The sounds began to grow louder, one above the others; there was no mistaking the bestial roars.

"Basch!" came a distant call. "Balthier!"

Finally, something appeared over the lip of the dunes.

"…Vaan?" Penelo murmured, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. He was running full-speed, pulling someone else behind him. "Riley?"

Then, Penelo gasped, eyes widening in shock, as the monstrous head of what could only be a Saurian rose above the horizon of the sandy hills.

"What in the blasted—!" Balthier growled, jerking his gun from its back-mounted holster. He stalked forward with the weapon raised at eye-level, with Fran and her ready bow close behind him.

Penelo gaped, backing away slowly. "V-Vaan!" she squeaked.

"All to arms!" Basch's strong voice commanded, pulling out his own blade. Ashe and Penelo followed quickly, though the youngest girl made sure to stay behind the adults.

"Balthier!" Vaan called again. He could see them all drawing weapons; they were running towards him now—but man, how incredibly slow they seemed.

The giant reptile unleashed its roar again, and this time he could swear he felt its breath on his back. "Riley," he repeated insistently, as he had been for a while now. "Hurry up already!"

"I'm workin on it okay!" she screamed in reply, but then he heard her canine whimper as she clutched her ear again. She tried to pull her other hand free for the right ear, but Vaan held on with a vice grip and pulled her faster. Their feet flew wildly, kicking up sand and stones, opposite the running steps of their companions. The distance slowly closed between them. Vaan glanced back once more, and another spike of terror was driven through his lungs. It was closer now.

Even as he watched, unable to pull his eyes away, the Saurian stretched its muscled neck, its terrible jaws opening once more. It was aiming for Riley—and this time, it was close enough. Oblivious, Riley screwed her eyes shut, enduring the awful pain as the creature roared again. The creature's jaws reached their full extent—in seconds, they would snap closed.

"Riley, MOVE!"

A gunshot cracked in the air, slicing through the sound of the Saurian's snarls. The huge lizard reared back, throwing its head to the sky to unleash a cry of anger and pain louder than any before. Riley screamed, finally tearing her wrist away from Vaan's hand. She'd stopped, clawing at her ears with a grimace of agony twisting up her face.

They had a mere second before the lizard would remember to come after them again. Without even a conscious decision, Vaan acted in a split second. He pulled hard on Riley's arm, pulling the already off-balance girl to the ground. She was covered by a sudden spray of sand and dirt—the results of the Saurian's frantic stomping. Right after throwing Riley aside, Vaan had completely reversed his momentum, diving straight between the giant lizard's legs.

The confused behemoth was enraged at his craftiness. It lifted its boulder-sized feet each in turn, trying again and again to crush him beneath its talons. He rolled and crawled and scrambled away, just barely escaping each crushing blow by a crazy mixture of light-footedness and sheer, blessed luck. It was a rolling tumult of confusion and blindness; he could barely see anything past the flying sand and everywhere he turned was a wall of scales.

"Blast it, boy!" Balthier cursed, scowling down the barrel of his gun. Finally, he snarled and put down his gun, reaching out to place a hand on Fran's bow. "Wait," was his only explanation. If they shot it again, it'd only aggravate it more—Vaan would be crushed.

He turned to Basch, managing to catch his eye. "Get that bloody fool out of there!"

With a short nod, Basch launched forward, sprinting as fast as he could toward the monster.

Somehow, by some outrageous stroke of divine intervention, Vaan had escaped from under the creature's feet and emerged behind it. But as he finally managed to regain his feet, immediately sprinting towards what he thought was open ground, the Saurian's enormous, tree-leveling tail swung in from the side. Vaan had just enough time to glance that way before the impact.

He was swept aside in a rush of pain so great he couldn't register it all, cast through the air like a helpless ragdoll. He didn't even feel it when he hit the ground, skipping across the sand like a rock on water, until he finally rolled to a stop and lay very, very still.

Basch circled around the Saurian, taking a wide berth around its vicious, stamping feet. In a split second flash of scales, he was nearly beheaded by the creature's flying tail. Barely, he managed to duck it and kept running. Finally getting within feet of Vaan, he dove forward, just barely missed by the tail's whipping backlash.

Vaan was dead to the world. Basch didn't even try to wake him up. Slinging the boy across his shoulders, he rose from the ground and sprinted, making a beeline for open ground.

"Now!" Balthier's call launched the others into action as soon as Basch was clear. His own gun fired, quickly followed by Fran's arrow. Ashe drew her sword and, showing all the bravery of a thousand soldiers, charged directly for the beast, slicing its legs. Spells materialized in the air above the Saurian's head as Penelo chanted out black and green magic.

But, in the middle of drawing her bow, Fran's sharp viera eyes caught sight of something half-buried in the sand at the monster's feet. This time, she placed her hand on Balthier's gun.

She offered no explanation, only broke out into a run, charging toward the colossal lizard.

"Fran!" Balthier's voice faded into the background. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted fear and desperation as he called her name.

"Penelo," Fran's voice snapped the girl out of a fira spell. Before she knew it, a graceful black-wood bow was thrust into her hands. Fran's quiver of poison arrows followed. "Shoot this."

"Wh-what?" Penelo squeaked, but Fran was already running again.

"Aim for its eyes!"

Ashe was distracting it when she got there. The princess fought expertly, dodging like lightning as the Saurian's jaws snapped again and again. As the lizard suddenly thrust its fang-lines head forward, Ashe dove into a brilliant forward roll, and the Saurian got a mouthful of sand. Ashe snatched the golden opportunity and drove her blade into the creature's neck.

Outraged, the monster reared its head to the sky, taking Ashe completely off the ground as she clutched onto the sword.

Fran had a perfect opportunity now. The Saurian, completely occupied with the amazingly persistent warrior climbing up its neck, took no notice as Fran spilled to her knees beside Riley's half-buried form and started digging her free.

Riley gasped in precious oxygen as her head came free of the sand. Dazed, she barely had enough mental awareness to breathe. There was a high-pitched, continuous ring in her ears…muffled roaring or something in the background. Someone was pulling her backwards by her jacket.

Before she knew what was happening, she'd been thrown against another body, her arms wrapped forcibly around their neck. Then she was jarred mercilessly as whoever it was started to run, carrying her on their back.

Penelo fumbled with the arrow, slipping many times, until she finally dropped it. Cursing, she pulled another from the quiver. She didn't know how to shoot…how was she supposed to shoot? She got the arrow nocked alright, and tried to pull back. The string pulled itself from her fingers early, sending the arrow a full three feet to the ground. Penelo groaned. She wanted to shoot her own stupid self.

Then, she caught sight of Basch, running towards them full-speed with Vaan across his shoulders.

She snatched the arrow at her feet and thrust it into the bowstring.

Penelo's eyes narrowed, brow knitted together. She drew the bow, the string cutting into her fingers, her arm shaking with the surprising amount of effort. She stared down the arrow, pushing aside everything except one singular thought: _aim for its eyes._

The arrow sailed through the air, embedding itself deeply into the Saurian's left cheek.

Not good enough. Penelo scowled and nocked another arrow. Even as Basch finally reached them, she didn't lose focus.

He left Vaan on the ground close to Balthier, spinning around immediately with sword drawn. "Majesty!" Basch called. To his amazement and horror, he looked up to see Ashe anchored squarely on top of the creature's head. Her sword was embedded in its skin as an anchor while she viciously slashed away with a dagger.

"They're all insane, women and children!" Balthier was shouting, firing his gun like a madman to cover Fran's flight. "Bloody stark raving!"

"We need to run," Basch called to him. "We cannot hope to kill it!"

Balthier had already put his gun back in its holster and was pulling Vaan onto his shoulders. "Well get your princess and let's _run_ then."

Basch sprinted away towards the Saurian again. At its feet, he had to doge like lightning to avoid being crushed. "Majesty!" he bellowed. "We must flee!" Again and again he yelled, trying to be heard over the Saurian's fit of outrage and Ashe's own battle-cries.

Finally, he saw Ashe appear over the side of the lizard's head. She leapt from the twenty-foot height without a second thought. It was an equal measure of luck as skill that allowed Basch to catch her. He set her on her feet gently. She panted for breath, clinging to him out of exhaustion. Blood covered her face, and he couldn't tell if it was hers to the beast's, but it chilled him all the same.

And then, they were running again, counting on the Saurian's stupidity to save them. They were already fifty feet away by the time it realized the crazy fighter was no longer on its head.

….

"**What do you think you'd ever say?  
I won't listen anyway.  
You don't know me,  
'Cause I'm not here."**

Vaan was awakened by his very non-gentle impact with the ground. Spitting out sand, he slowly blinked away the haze from his eyes, groaning as he lifted himself from the ground. There was an unholy pain in his chest. Sitting up made his head spin. He rubbed his eyes, trying to make it subside. "Aw, geeze…" he breathed, wincing as he rubbed his ribcage. "What happened…"

"We nearly died," a breathy voice laughed from beside him. Riley grinned at his confused glance. "But it was pretty freakin awesome."

Even though it was bad and he knew it, even though she looked as horrible as he felt, Vaan forced himself to grin. "It was worth it, huh?"

Riley grinned back and opened her mouth to respond.

"Depends," a strong voice interrupted. Riley's grin faded and her eyes snapped to the ground. Vaan glanced up to see Balthier's stormy gaze peering down at him. "How much worth do the combined lives of every person here measure against the thrill of seeing a Saurian up close?"

Vaan groaned through his teeth, dropping his eyes.

Balthier scowled all the more. Suddenly, Vaan found himself yanked to his feet by the collar of his vest. The movement caused so much pain to his ribs that he forgot to be angry. A squeal beside him meant that Riley had similarly been dragged to her feet. She immediately collapsed against the wall beside her, though, and Vaan was surprised to realize that it was a rusted metal wall, and not rock. They'd reached the oil wells. The group rested in the shade beneath a gigantic metal pillar that rested at the shore of the Sandsea.

Balthier's menacing glare reappeared and the pirate snatched the shoulder of his vest, shaking him roughly. He nearly passed out again from the pain it brought his head.

"You'll keep yourself out of trouble from here to forward," Balthier growled, locking glares with the teenager. "We've got enough problems without your stupidity putting all our lives at stake. You don't have the right. We _all_ might have _died_—do you understand that, urchin?"

Balthier let go of his vest by shoving him backwards, and Vaan just managed to keep his feet. He didn't...have the right? What did he mean... Then Vaan's anger took a staggering blow when the relization hit him. They all might have died. For something so stupid. Basch, Ashe, Fran...Penelo.

The thought was a hammer's strike; Vaan nearly toppled over backwards. Penlo. _Dead_ Penelo.

"A man has a responsibility to clean up his own idiocy," Balthier snapped. "It's enough without looking after that of children."

Vaan didn't look away; he wanted so badly to glare at the man, to stare him down in defiance, but his mind was stuck on horror and thoughts of Dead Penelo, and he couldn't muster up even a growl. And for such a reason! His stupid ideas...his deadly _fun!_

..Wait. His?

"Riley."

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly as the voice of gold turned to something more like the report of a gunshot. She opened her eyes to see him stalking towards her. Fury was in his eyes once more, fury she knew, fire from hazel eyes behind rimmed glasses… Riley's panicked eyes flickered to Basch, but the captain was all the way across the clearing, standing in a huddle with Ashe and Fran. But Balthier was upon her now, and there was nothing and no one to save her, and no serendipity to distract him...

In a surprisingly vicious move, Balthier snatched her by the hair so that she was forced to meet his eyes. "You're so far lost to fantasy not even _decapitation_ can take your head from the clouds—but dreams and luck will not always save you as we have. One day, after all that running, you'll have come to a place where you're alone." Here, he looked away, locking his eyes on Vaan. "And you'll have to handle things alone."

Riley gasped as he suddenly released her, his hand tearing a couple strands of fiery hair from her head. Shaking, she wrapped her arms around herself, staring increduously after him. Vaan was beside her instantly. But he hadn't done a thing while Balthier was yelling at her…But then, she hadn't either, when Balthier was after him. They watched together as the man stalked away, but then stopped, back turned.

"I would leave you here," Balthier murmured over his shoulder. "Don't think I haven't the option of letting you rot in the wilderness." With that, he stalked away.

Riley looked to Vaan in the silence that followed. Her eyes were pitiful... He couldn't look at them. They were too disgusting.

"Vaan—I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't know he'd be so—"

His teeth ground together. That small voice of sympathy in the back of his mind was nearly burned to ash by the surge of anger that rose within him. "Yeah," Vaan cut her blabberings short with an incredulous laugh. "That's it. That's why. You're amazing, Riley, you really are." He flung himself to his feet and, without another word, he stalked away too.

.~*~.

"**No matter what gets in my way.  
As long as there's still life in me.  
No matter what, remember:  
You know I'll always come for you."**

The cliffs were all that they'd hoped for. Minimal shade, finicky protection from the wind, and barren rock walls to provide either protection from or hiding places of enemy beasts. But among the rocky outcroppings and jutting peaks there rested something else, something metallic that answered when he called. Allan's ears ached, sore and raw, from the effort it took to track the airship. For that was definitely it: an airship, though over the distance it was impossible to tell what kind or whose craft it was. There was only one group it could be, though. Common sense filled in the gaps of his powers.

Jonathan walked at his side, letting his younger brother lead. Where Allan's ears had merely been damaged, the older halfbreed's ears had slowly dulled into numbness, until now all he could hear was through direct contact with man-made structure. Probably it was due to the heavy armor he chose to wear, always grating on his eardrums with every movement. His physical hearing was slightly impaired as well, but with his instincts playing into the role, it had hardly mattered until now. Now, he wished to everything that he could hear Mist over distance. Danica couldn't either, the useless she-cat. Jon had been too aggravated to ask why. Apparently Allan's ability was a rare one.

In any case, he walked up front, hiding his constant grimace as he reached out over a closing distance to hear the call of hand-crafted metal. As they walked on, Allan's pace began to slow. Jonathan actually slowed to match him, so that his brother wouldn't notice. They kept going, rounding bend after bend, never seeming to get closer to what they tracked. At one point, halfway up the slope of a sand-dune, Jon glanced over to see Allan panting wearily as his eyes squinted ahead, red stains spreading like ink through his bandanna.

"Al," he snapped quietly. "Al stop."

"No," he muttered hoarsely.

"Al you moron! You're bleeding agai—"

"Jonathan!" Allan yelled back, his eyes screwed shut in a painful wince. He sucked in breath through his teeth. "You're _too_…_loud!_"

That shut him up. Danica looked up, too, alarmed at his sudden volume. She hadn't ever seen the younger brother mad. She didn't know it was possible. Or was he mad at all? Danica looked from him to Jonathan, not even aware that concern was infecting her emotions.

Jon stared, eyes locked helplessly his brother's face. "Al…" he muttered. "Your ears—"

"I know—don't you think I know? They do that all the time if you didn't notice." Allan's eyes opened again, bloodshot and sunken. The whole time, he hadn't stopped going, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other. "I'm not stopping because it won't."

Jonathan stopped in his tracks. But Al didn't. Al kept going. Jon had to wonder if he even knew where.

Suddenly there was someone beside him. Jonathan tore his eyes from Allan's back. As Danica walked past, Jon met her gaze. Her cold, sympathetic, angry gaze.

"Just let him walk already."

She turned away from Jon's confused, indignant stare and followed Allan.

….

"**How do we get so mean?  
Is it cause we wanna be free? Well that's not me.  
Normally I'm so strong…  
It all goes bad eventually."**

Allan fell against the rock face, panting, bracing his arm on one knee. Sweat and blood rolled down his neck. His head pounded like a drum and a high-pitched whine was always in his ears. Nothing…_nothing_. It was impossible. There was no way that he'd gone all that way to find an empty clearing.

"_Now_ will you stop?"

Allan didn't reply for several moments. He struggled to lift his head, eyes sweeping across the small pocket of land between two cliffs, empty save his two companions. "It's here, Jon…" he croaked, running a hand down his face. "It's gotta be here. The Mist says it's right on top of us…"

"Shut up and sit down, you sick old dog." Jonathan grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him to the ground, where he slumped against the wall of rock behind him. He couldn't resist the wonderful bliss of sitting in the shade.

"Nothing." Jonathan swept the clearing again. "Nothing. Brother, you have driven yourself to death's door for _nothing_." A bitter, frightening laugh escaped him and he spun around towards Allan, who didn't even open his eyes. "Nothing at all! You can't hear worth a _gil_, Al! You get it now? You get why I didn't wanna let you come? I knew it was trouble—you never listen to anyone when that traitor's on your mind!"

"_Shut up!"_

Silence.

Stunned, Jonathan looked toward the woman. Danica met his eyes with a torrent of defiance and outrage that he was helpless to react to. Even Allan cracked an eyelid to look at her.

Danica didn't say a word. Her burning stare never once releasing Jon's gaze, her eyes began to glow a bright yellow-orange. She stayed that way for several seconds. Then, with the light fading, Danica looked to the sky. Jon followed her gaze and saw absolutely nothing.

Without explanation, Danica strode across the clearing to a large boulder. She looked down at it, and then waved her arm in the air above the rock. Halfway across, her wrist bumped into something hot and metallic. Her hand closed around it immediately. To the others, it looked like the crazy bat was just grabbing a fistful of air.

Danica's other hand shot out and snatched Jon's wrist. He savagely snarled and jerked away. The fire in her eyes increased and, to Jonathan's utmost amazement, an equally ferocious growl tore from her lips. Reduced to a stunned robot, Jonathan held out his hand again. She grabbed his wrist and thrust his hand towards the metal rope; his fumbling fingers closed on it as his eyes widened.

"Anchor tether," he muttered incredulously. He glanced upwards, though he still saw nothing, and shook the rope. Far overhead, Danica heard metal clanking as it hit against the underside of the ship. "A cloaking device," Jon muttered, gaping at the sky like a moron.

Danica strode past him, releasing a short, angry growl. Jonathan stared after her in wonder.

A grin turned up the corner of his mouth. It spread when he realized that he could now watch her walk from behind.

But all his mirth vanished when he looked where she was heading and saw Allan. Jon turned away. Grasping the anchor cord in both hands, he focused on getting all the information he could from the ship.

Danica kneeled beside Allan in the dark shade of the rocks. He rolled his head towards her, too exhausted to even lift his head. Danica ignored his eyes as best she could. She pulled off the bandanna and pulled several other cloths from her bag and reached for his ears. Allan hissed through his teeth, wincing, as her hands cleaned the blood away.

"Thanks…" he muttered.

Danica stopped at once. She hesitated, her hands frozen over his head, fingers tightening on the bloodstained rag she held. She broke into motion, quickly gathering up the cloths she'd already used from the ground.

"That should be enough," she said curtly, and dropped a second bandanna in his lap. "Here."

Danica stood up and left hurriedly to bury the rags.

When she returned, Allan was back on his feet again, looking much better. He and Jon were passing a canteen back and forth. It reminded her of her own thirst. Rejoining them, Danica took her own water bottle from her bag.

"…west, from what I could tell. It's hard to hear it," Jonathan was saying.

"Hard to hear?"

As if all was normal and well, Allan answered her casually. "Jon said it's like the ship refuses to speak."

Danica stared humorously, eyebrows raised, at Jonathan, who scowled in his brother's direction.

"Who cares, I know it's stupid," Jon shot at her. "You try if you want. What matters is I know where they went."

"Well the come on," she muttered, pushing the two aside as she walked between them. She paused for only a moment to put away her water bottle, then took off striding across the sweeping, cliff-speckled desert she hated so much. Offering his brother a small glance, Allan couldn't help dropping his eyes quickly away. He followed Danica in silence.

Jonathan was left to stare after them both. He released a deep breath, following them at a distance. _'Blast it all, Allan. You and your guilt trips.' _The worst part was, Al didn't even try to give him any guilt trips.

Blast it all. If he didn't love his temper so much, he'd be tempted to curse it and fling it to the howling Sandsea winds.

And Danica. She'd actually used her temper—an impressive one, he'd admit—towards something useful. How the heck had she been able to reduce him to some kind of trained puppy like that? No person alive had ever been able to quell his anger before. Not even Al. He didn't like this. Not a bit. How did she do it..?

Throughout the rest of the trip, Jonathan's eyes flickered back and forth between his companions, shifting even more than the desert sands.

.~*~.

"**I'll face myself  
To cross out what I've become.  
Erase myself,  
And forget what I've done."**

The bridges loomed high over the sandswept desert sands, but there was a staircase where the structure met the shore. They climbed up to find mesh-iron bridges of rusted metal connecting a series of giant, unremarkable towers/pillars. Aside from a few tomato-headed critters and a couple aleurones, there were no monsters to clear out, just like they'd hoped for. Balthier was happy about the aleurones. Apparently the drill-like horns from the creature's heads fetched high gil in the bazaar. Riley only hoped it was enough to soothe out het feathers at least a little from the Sauron stunt. But at the thought of that, a cold wind seemed to frost all that was inside her, and she shoved it out of her mind. It only left a hollowness under the space in the sky where the thoughts still loomed.

...He was so angry. She didn't know what is was for, but Vaan hated her. It stunned her like a blow to the head. What had she done? What horror had she committed that deserved those eyes? She didn't understand. And somehow, she figured it would feel better than knowing...except knowing seemed essential for some reason. She wouldn't admit why. He was the one who decided he wanted to be mad. Who cared if he was mad.

As they came to one of the larger bridges, the group began to branch out, finding places to sit or lean against the railing. Riley, naturally, found the first climbable thing within range and perched atop it. Her fingers pressed against the rusted metal, she escaped into the Mist's field of dreamy vision. Images of bustling feet, clad in work boots, and arms carrying oil drums flitted in and out of the murky yellow swirls. These bridges and towers had seen decades. An ancient time was unfolding before her glowing eyes, both feeding and satiating her curiosity, taking her far away.

Distracted by something in the distance, Vaan slowed and left his spot behind Balthier; the pirate and his partner walked off towards a separate section of the circular bridge. Everything was circular around here. Except, Vaan noted, the gigantic and complex tower of machinery he was staring at, far across the way.

Basch stepped up behind him, noticing his interest. "A construct to draw oil from the ground. Abandoned many years now, it seems."

Vaan glanced over his shoulder. "Did Dalmascans build this?"

"No. The Rozzarians." Vaan turned around to listen to him better, and in doing so, saw the cloud that passed over Basch's features. "Their empire lies far to the west, ever at war with Archadia…heedless of the kingdoms caught in their midst. Dalmasca. Nabradia. Landis." His gaze roamed over the land as if looking one by one towards the lands he listed, but lingered in the direction in which Nabradia must lie. Vaan didn't miss the sorrow with which he spoke.

Then, another voice cut across, its sudden volume contrasting sharply with the Captain's deep and gentle tones. The both of them jumped, spinning around to see—of all people—Vossler walking towards them out of the wild random blue. "Tis the small craft's fate: to watch the list of the galleons and pray for light winds."

"Vossler," Basch murmured in surprise. His lifted spirit, however, was greatly diminished when he remembered the terms upon which he'd last seen his comrade. "Why are you here?" were his eventual words, ones which he hadn't even realized he was going to say. They sounded like an accusation. But towards whom?

Vossler's eyes met his, and Basch resisted the urge to drop his gaze like some meek sidekick. In the background, Vaan stepped reflexively forward, still taking care to remain behind Basch and out of the conversation.

"Imagine my surprise," Vossler was saying, "when upon my return to Bhujerba I find that both you and the Lady Ashe have vanished…"

"I thought you above consorting with sky pirates."

Basch no longer felt the urge to look away. His eyes steeled to match the gaze he was faced with. "Balthier is a man worthy of our trust," he emphasized the words, his tone bordering on dangerous. "And it was the Lady Ashe's decision. I am content to lend my arm," Basch went on, his momentum slowly falling. "As I could not when Rassler died. When her throne was taken."

This time, his gaze did fall aside, dark storms swirling gently within his grey eyes. "…Never again," he declared softly. "I will _defend_ her this time."

"You walk the knight's path," Vossler's high tone cut in once more. He closed the distance between himself and Basch, meeting his comrade's eyes for a brief moment. "The Lady Ashe?"

Suppressing mixed feelings, Basch turned aside, letting his eyes lead Vossler towards the princess. As Vossler moved away, softer steps walked to his side. Basch glanced over to see the boy standing by him, staring after Vossler with a mixture of distrust and distaste.

Basch allowed himself a smile. At least he had one ally. '_More than one,_' he thought as his gaze crossed over to the sky pirates, who stood apart from the soldiers and royalty and orphans.

Very worthy of trust. More so, perhaps, than Basch's…comrade.

"We should leave this place," Fran's voice cut across the wind. His arms slung over the railing, Balthier glanced towards her, using the ominous tone in her voice as an excuse to have a glimpse at her ruby eyes. Ah—that was a look he knew. Far too well, he figured. That look meant serious business, and usually, the bad kind.

He followed her gaze out to the swirling patterns of the Sandsea. "Let me guess," he said. "Sandstorm?"

Fran shook her head slightly. "Something far worse…"

In one of life's rarest moments, Balthier's eyes widened. "Those horrid fish-riders?" he muttered incredulously. Confirming his fear, and therefore his distaste and annoyance, Fran nodded.

Immediately Balthier left the railing, heading back towards Basch at an actual _running _pace.

"The Marquis sympathizes with your plight," Vossler continued, "but the Empire perches as a carrion bird on his shoulder. He can keep rumors of your 'abduction' silent for only so long."

Ashelia was having none of it, so great was her relief at seeing him. Greater still was her urgency as she asked, "Yes—But tell me Vossler, what have you accomplished?"

"We leave at once!"

Surprised, both turned around to find Balthier jogging towards them, Fran close behind. Further back were Basch and the children. Vossler stared at the pirate with an expression very familiar to the man—poorly disguised loathing and utter disgust. And as much as he'd like to further the soldier's discomfort, there were far more important things happening now.

"This is _Urutan-Yensa_ territory," Balthier pressed, trying to make the thick-headed oaf understand their predicament. "And they are un-fond of visitors."

Fran felt the gentle tug on her hair at the same moment she felt the instinctive threat of something approaching. She looked out towards the horizon, towards the churning sand and water, just barely making out something that she knew was not the incoming tide. Hiding at the viera's side, her hand still clasping the silver strands of Fran's hair, Riley's fearful eyes were trained on the same spot.

Far out to sea, legions of ragged humanoid creatures rode on mounts of Yensa fish, whooping and shrieking as they leapt in and out of the watery sands. The fish's noses were pointed towards the bridges of the oil towers.

.~*~.

**A/N:** No, I won't proofread! I refuse! …Right now at least. I'll do it later. But I've been waiting forEVER for this chapter to be done, and I'm not about to let a few grammatical errors or weak links in the plot chain stop me now! Onward to publishing!

**Lyric headings:** "The Truth" by Staind, "Name" by The Goo Goo Dolls, "Teenagers" by MyChemicalRomance, "I'm Still Here" by The Goo Goo Dolls, "Mean" by P!nk, and "What I've Done" by Linkin Park.


	13. The Gods Toy With Us

Riley left Fran's side and went to the tower in the center of the circular platform, scampering like a squirrel back to the ledge that had been her perch. Hanging from the tower by just one arm and a foot, she leaned forward over the air, peering into the distance.

"Oh boy…" she mumbled. "Balthiiier? What're _those!_"

Vaan looked up at her sharply and snapped, "Wanna get a closer look?"

Riley gaped in outrage until she realized he had every right to say that.

"Looks like we've attracted the wrong sort of attention," Balthier's voice broadcasted among the sounds of running feet. "Let's quit this place while we still can. Move!"

Basch was right behind him, with Fran soon after. Vaan ran hand-in-hand with Penelo and Riley dropped down behind them to hit the ground running.

"Vossler!"

He turned, stopped in his tracks. Lady Ashe was standing by the railing and hadn't budged an inch. "Have you found the means to restore Dalmasca?" she pressed urgently.

If it was the only way to get her running, fine. "First we must claim the Dawn Shard. It all begins with that."

"Hurry up back there!"

With a glance to the princess, Vossler followed the others. And though she didn't know why he would tell her so little, Ashe conceded that now was not the time for talking. He'd tell her the rest later…of course…

With the Urutan fast approaching on their wave of sand and surf, they ran, dashing over bridges and platforms. But with their Yensa fish mounts, the Urutan were faster in the sea than any hume on land, or any viera, or any mix of the two.

.~*~.

**"There's another world inside of me that you may never see.**  
**There are secrets in this life that I can't hide.**  
**Somewhere in this darkness there's a light that I can't find.**  
**Maybe it's too far away...or maybe I'm just blind."**

Finally, the hot desert air scorching as it rushed in and out of her lungs, Danica stopped running. She panted heavily, but none less than her two companions as they both slackened their pace as well. Jonathan slumped with his hands on his knees, while Allan crouched and braced his fist against the ground. Sweat poured from them in streams. Their feet were blistered and raw beneath their boots. But they'd crossed the desert in less than five hours, a trip that should last nearly a day, and stopped only once. Not once did a monster stand in their path; not once was one able to catch them.

Trained from age thirteen, they were the fastest runners bearing the strongest endurance. No four-legged beast in the region yet compared to the speed of the halfbreeds of house Solidor. They were bright jewels indeed in Vayne's military treasure box.

Now, as always when she had to complete such pointless tasks for her thick-skulled dictators, Danica cursed her beloved strength.

The halfbreed project was started in Draklor, and its products given to the Emperor's son as a gift—exchanged for a gift of gold in equal value, of course—by one of the most prominent scientists in the lab, and one who was growing very close friends with Lord Vayne. They had to be guaranteed loyal. When they were assigned a task by their master, no matter the content, they were driven by every instinct to comply. It was implanted in their minds since birth: serve, fight, or face a pain worse than death. It would seem a threat like that wouldn't hold, that the leverage would fade over time. But here they were, weren't they?

In the shade of the ancient, rusted tower, the halfbreeds rested. They refilled their water packs at least five times, but ate lightly. In short minutes, they would be running again. Complying. They got to hunt, though.

"Jon," Allan croaked. He slumped against the oil tower as he'd slumped against the rock face five hours earlier. "How far?"

Jonathan kept his attention on the dried meat from his pack and didn't reply.

"Jon—"

"I hear ya. M'not deaf _yet_." But his eyes remained fixed on his food, devoid of the bright glow of the Mist.

Allan groaned, running a hand down his face. "You're a child," he muttered groggily, his eyes falling slowly closed. Jonathan didn't even look his way.

A heated sigh drew his attention. "I'll do it," Danica grumbled, standing as she moved towards the tower. She took a wide path around Allan so as not to wake him up, stepping out into the sunlight.

"No." At first, she didn't even acknowledge Jon's voice, commanding though it was.

Suddenly there was a rush of wind and footsteps and his face was inches from hers, his hand clasped strong and hot around her wrist. Tearing a gasp from her lips, he pulled her back into the shadows of the tower, spinning her as he let go. Danica flipped her curling hair as she whirled around to face him, glaring with all the fury of the sun.

Jonathan turned upwards, leading her gaze towards the bridges overhead, where Danica hadn't looked before. Her ears flattened even tighter than the bandanna was tying them down. Crawling along the bridges were at least fifteen or more hunch-backed, humanoid forms in ragged cloaks and leathers. Faces that weren't covered by cloth were almost mask-like, with giant black eyes and no noses. The Urutan-Yensa stalked all along the construct, but saw nothing of the halfbreeds directly below the platform on which they walked.

"When I say 'no'," Jonathan said, stealing her attention, "_listen_."

"Nn…" Allan mumbled foggily, his eyelids struggling open. "…s'goin on?"

"Nothin Al. Go back to sleep; you got time."

They returned to their rest, tucked safely away in quietness and shadow while the potential enemies scuttled about overhead. Danica removed her bandanna to give her ears the blessed relief of standing upright. She ran her claws through her hair, breaking up the clumps of moisture from where she'd sweated. Her bandanna was soaked, but on the bright side, it'd be cool when she put it back on. With it off, she could hear better the clacking of the shell-covered Urutan-Yensa feet against the metal above. They were the only humanoid beings she knew of that had shells on the outside. Like insects, or crabs. Or Jonathan.

Releasing a deep breath, Danica stretched out on the sand, thinking that Allan had the right idea. Her aching muscles thanked her divinely. She put a hand behind her head and watched the underside of the platform above them. Sleep eluded her. She thought, strangely enough, of Alika.

What she wouldn't give for that stupid flute of hers to be playing in the background.

Danica couldn't help but think of all those troops, all their muscles and tall frames and armor. She wondered if the kid was being strong. If she'd gotten meaner, like she told her to. Maybe Alika wondered about her sister's situation, too.

Not soon enough, the warmth of the sand and the push of exhaustion drew her into light sleep.

Jonathan glanced her way, eyes roaming along the contours of her long legs, further up towards her tight abs, and along the strong and corded neck to finally reach her face. She was tanner than her fairy of a sister, with darker-colored curls that now bunched around her shoulders and splayed out across the sand. With her eyes closed, it was one of the few times he saw true rest on her angular face. It was devoid of anger and annoyance and strength. Simply rest.

He hoped she would sleep more often. Make her loud mouth bearable if he could look at her more.

As Jonathan finished off the rest of his food, the hunger disappeared, and his body started to ache for sleep. Figured. One thing after another—there was no pleasing himself, was there? He was so tired.

Sitting against the oil tower with Allan at his side and Danica at his feet, he stayed awake, listening to his companions' steady breathing and the footsteps of the enemies high over their heads.

….

Danica awoke to mumbled "hey"s being repeated by the deep voice of someone who knelt beside her. Her eyes snapped open and immediately found Jonathan's face. Otherwise she didn't move. Her first thought was of the flute she heard fading off somewhere in the distance.

"Time to go."

She sat up as Jon moved away and watched him bend down to shake his brother's shoulder. Allan mumbled something incoherent and swatted his hand away, shifting until his back was turned.

"C'mon buddy," Jon said gently, prodding his boot into Allan's side. More mumbled protest and hand-swatting.

"Allan, I will throw you into the Sandsea."

"M'workin onnit Jon…"

"Don't think I won't, bro. You don't believe me but I'll toss you right in. Davy Jones."

Danica felt the urge to smile, but didn't.

They were all fully awake and ready within two minutes. Tying her bandanna into place, Danica looked ahead to the tower's staircase they were about to climb, and then upwards, where she still heard the scuttling of the Urutan.

She turned to the others, who wordlessly returned her look, and then on some unspoken cue they all moved at once.

They ran. Along iron-mesh bridges, from tower to tower, their boots flew fast as the wind. Any Urutan they passed would blink in surprise, and before it could even raise a sword, a dagger-lined gauntlet would tear through its skull.

Jonathan killed by the tens and twenties, Allan's ears bled continually, but the halfbreeds of house Solidor never slowed.

.~*~.

"**I won't be left here  
Behind closed doors…"**

"Which way?" Balthier snapped over his shoulder, not slowing as they approached the fork formed by two separate bridges that extended from the platform.

"Left," came Basch's call, just in time for Balthier to steer them all down the left bridge.

It hadn't even been five minutes and already the Urutan had closed the distance to at least fifty yards. Every so often, Fran would glance towards the Sandsea to see that they'd covered even more ground. Not ground. Sea. And since the Urutan came from a side angle, perpendicular to the party's flight, it didn't seem to matter how fast they ran. Below them, the sandsea was beginning to break into patches of land and winding ravines, but there was still a distance to go before they reached solid ground. The bridge they were on now was at least a hundred yards long, if not longer. And the Urutan were closing fast. Fran glanced over again. Thirty yards or less.

"They will catch us," she called ahead to Balthier. He looked out towards the sandsea and put on a scowl to cover his alarm. He turned ahead and put on a burst of speed. Of late it seemed he was doing quite a bit of running from things that wanted to kill him.

Old Raithwall's treasure had better be worth the _Strahl_'s weight in gil. And if he ever saw his girl again, he'd set up a giant scale to weigh her against the money-bags just to make sure.

"Balthier!" came a shriek from behind him—Penelo's voice. He craned his neck around, counting on sheer luck not to trip. He followed Penelo's frightened gaze and found, to his utmost annoyance, that the Urutan had arrived. One by one they leapt from their fish mounts, catching hold on the pillars that supported the bridge. Like insects, they began to crawl upwards.

"They can _climb_?" Riley gaped as she ran beside the railing, looking down at the growing Urutan swarm. "_Balthier!_" she accused. As if he had any control over it whatsoever.

"Faster," Vossler's voice rose above the sound of the creatures' nasal howls. "Draw your weapons!"

Riley wished that Basch had been the one to say that. She didn't mind taking orders from him. In any case, she drew the dagger from its sheath on her belt. It was a new one. In Bhujerba, Basch had helped her choose a weapon she could work best with. Let them come, Riley thought, grinning. She was invincible with this blade.

And she'd have to be. The Urutan had arrived.

On both sides, the Urutan-Yensa began to appear over the lip of the railing. He didn't stop to aim, but simply pointed his gun and fired as he ran on. As the party passed along the bridge, swords, arrows, and bullets shot out at the Urutan they passed, missing some but sending many hurtling back towards the churning Sandsea. When the point came that they reached Urutan who had already scrambled up onto the platform, Balthier slackened his pace, letting Basch and Vossler run out in front.

Shoulders lowered, the two charged ahead together, knocking the Urutan aside or wounding them so that they fell easily to the others who followed behind. Riley's dagger flashed very often. She liked her new role. She liked this altogether. They had tanks, ranges, and skill-fighters. They were the perfect battle-party! She followed the others, her boots flying across rusted metal, as every instinct within her screamed at once. Trying to predict a direction of attack became pointless; they were coming from all directions. It became all she could do to stay in the wake of her companions. She ducked under Vaan's swinging sword once to place herself closer to the middle. Of course she didn't think that such an action placed Vaan in the back of the group instead. Something told her to raise her dagger to the right; she did, and barely deflected an incoming blade, which scraped painfully across her knuckles. She hardly had time to register the pain. She was was glad for that. Hiding under her dagger, she forced her stumbling feet to fly, always driving faster. It never seemed to be fast enough. Since when did she have problems with speed?

A sharp cry drew her attention, and it was not the death-shriek of an Urutan. Only then did she realize how she had put Vaan in the back. She whipped her head around, hair flying wildly into her face, panic rising in her chest. But Vaan was fine. The moron was running along with a scowl and a dripping red sword. But she remembered his bruised (broken?) ribs from the Saurian fight. Riley spared a second to glare at him and make sure he wasn't hurt after all. But she neglected to look forward.

And then, the unthinkable befell her. The absolute worst thing that could happen. Her leg had stopped moving.

Riley couldn't even scream her horror as she tipped forward, a biting pain erupting across her shin. Directly in front of her was another sword, bared parallel to its cruel partner that had caught her leg. The scimitar grew larger in the reflection of her wide eyes as she helplessly fell towards the Urutan blade, and all she could think was what a stupid way to die this was...

A hand caught her at the last second, snatching her by the hood of her jacket. Riley was jerked back to her balance, and in a split second, the horror-stricken look on her face snapped into a vengeful scowl. Her dagger flashed thrice in one second, and the trickster Urutan fell back screaming. And Vaan ran past her.

She followed, ignoring, as Vaan did, the substantial pain and limp that now staggered her sprint. She had tripped. Riley the freerunning thief, the master of cunning and self-preservation, had tripped up and nearly died...because of lack of attention. No...her attention was focused on someone else.

She gritted her teeth until the canines pierced her lip. Her dagger worked furiously and each kill was perfect. But it didn't make it up. She'd nearly allowed someone else to cause her demise. It was...it was not her. At what point had she sacrificed herself for this kid? Was it only this week that she had been in Rabanastre tricking him into doing her work for Migelo? Riley pumped her legs faster, because somehow it mattered more than killing, more than instincts, that she regain her position in front of Vaan.

She drew closer and came within inches away just as his sword arm swung back in the wake of his latest blow. Riley snarled as she ducked, avoiding decapitation by the nick of her teeth.

From somewhere within her, a mindless growl resonated. As her head rose, her pinpoint eyes locked on Vaan's back.

Riley surged forward, pushing faster without heed of pain, until she was striving neck-and-neck with him. Her arm shot out before she could think. It swept back, falling across Vaan's chest and his cracked ribs, sweeping him from his feet just like the thrashing tail of a Wild Saurian. His breathless, pained cry echoed in her bloody halfbreed ears, drowning all other sounds, as it would in the countless nightmares to follow.

...

**"So what if you can see**  
**The darkest side of me?**  
**No one will ever change this**  
**Animal I have become."**

Riley stopped in her tracks, legs gone completely numb. She spun around to have her breath blasted away at the sight of Vaan being dragged across the bridge, clawing at the Urutan arms that wrapped around his neck. His face was a mask of pain, panic, and...no—she did not, she would not see betrayal there, did not hear it in his cries. His back hit the railing and bent sharply as the shrieking things tried with all their power to drag him over the side. His gray-blue eyes widened in horror.

A desperate cry torn from her lips, Riley lunged forward. She charged into the waving Urutan arms, reaching for Vaan. And then her world became her frantic dagger, slashing out loyally until the hoard of enemies became ragged scraps. Each slash was driven by Vaan's pain-wrenched sounds of strangulation. She beat back the spider-like limbs, knowing only the need to be free from the hundred spiny claws. The best she could do was to shove her dragging arms through the grasping tendrils, twisting her dagger blindly, ignoring panic and horror as countless shell-coated fingers wrapped around her body and neck. She held for dear life to Vaan, her clawed fingers clenched around the corded, heated, human skin of his arm. It was her anchor tether.

Finally, the arms that held him fell away, quite literally, hacked off at the joints. He fell forward because Riley was still pulling at him and caught himself on all fours. Gasping, Vaan clutched at his ribcage, dead weight as Riley tried to pull him up by the arm. "O-ok…m'ok," he panted. He managed to glance back and caught a glimpse of shattered Urutan shells coated in dark red slime. "Y-you killed them..."

"Yeah…" The halfbreed was equally breathless. "So now I...don't have to apologize."

Vaan went rigid. Suddenly he was tearing his arm from her grasp, throwing back his right foot, and now he stood before her in his favored battle-ready crouch. His scowl, his stance, the brandished dagger, all were reserved for enemies. But the one he faced, her claws reaching out to him helplessly, was Riley. She locked stares with this stranger, this betrayed tool, and could only think of how...after all the monsters he had stared down...those hateful eyes were now for her.

A gunshot echoed, startling them both into spinning around. Balthier stalked towards them, gun still pointed at the Urutan who had been sneaking up behind their backs. Vaan stared at the creature as it fell. Then Balthier was there pulling him by the arm.

"No stopping," the pirate said, roughly pushing Vaan to run alongside him. "If we get cornered, we're done for."

Riley made it fully one step before her body froze. Balthier and Vaan were sprinting ahead, putting a growing gap between her and safety. Frozen with fear and instinct, she couldn't follow. She may as well be a statue. Something else was coming for them across the bridges, stronger and faster than any Urutan.

She spun around, tearing the bandanna off her head, eyes searching frantically even as they glowed with dim light. For the first time, she realized she could see both the Mist's vision and her own. There were three of them: speeding shadows approaching fast over the miles of intricate bridges. Two she could see clearer than the other. No, she could _feel_ them clearer. She knew that presence. But it wasn't just him this time. With him was another she knew: a feeling she'd lived alongside for half her life.

Horror shot through her heart like lightning. It couldn't be…please say it wasn't…

She didn't know or care what she was doing, only that it had to be fast. Her arms shot over her head, sparks already jumping across her fingers, and before she knew it she slammed her fists with all her strength against the rusted metal at her feet.

"_Thundara!"_

One suspended moment of tension made her wonder fearfully if she was out of energy, if it wouldn't work. But then, finally an explosion of energy surged from her hands. A colossal invisible force threw her backward helplessly. Her head slammed against something solid. Electrified wind surged past her face. In the background wailed a high-pitched, grinding shriek that stung her ears into numbness. It was all she heard until sudden, unstoppable blackness overtook her.

.~*~.

******"I'm not even a person, am I?**  
I'm just your problem.  
I shouldn't have to justify what I do.  
I shouldn't have to be the one that makes up with you, so…  
Why do I want to?  
Why do I want to…"

_You are weary, my love._

Riley's brow furrowed at the intrusion of a voice upon her silent blackness. It was just about as clear as muddy bells and barely more than a breath. A whisper of gentle breeze. Her cradle. It was a woman's voice.

Soft skin brushed smoothly against her cheek. Breathing in, she recognized the pure scent: viera. Viera skin and damp, packed-down earth. Wet stone and rust. She smelled it, but didn't feel any. Gentle hands stroked her ears, smoothing away the raw, bloody soreness.

_Nah._ Another voice replied. It was a golden, handsome tone. _But...Riley's pretty worn out though._

She was laying with her head in someone's lap, her dirty fist clenched loosely on the fabric of thier clothes. The woman's voice came from right above her, and the second, that of a young boy, from beside_. _Swirls of grey formed patterns in her blurry sight, slowly materializing to finally afford her a view of her surroundings. They were in the corner of a tiny, dirt-floored pen enclosed by black mesh iron. Moonlight dimly blanketed the scene_._ She could see the one who sat beside her, his ragged form slumped against the fence. He was young. His bright green eyes, from behind the veil of his stringy red hair, were the only piece of color in the entire scene._  
_

_Sing somethin, mom. Riley loves it.  
_

The woman responded with a low, quiet chuckle: a sound like downy feathers. _And what song would 'Riley' like to hear?_

_The happy one. The one about roads going on and on.  
_

With another laugh, the viera reached out her hand and ran it through the boy's dark red hair, stroking his ears. A divine look of peace came upon his dirt-smudged face. His head fell gently to the side, eyes closed, resting at last.

And then, finally, she began to sing. It was a strong, clear, and vibrant sound, not at all like the feathers of her laugh. It was a walking song. Like the boy said, it was happy. She knew this song. He had loved this song the best...but Riley had always wanted to hear some other different one. Was the only time he ever got to hear it when she was asleep? Riley turned over and buried her face in the viera's stomach, clinging to fistfuls of her shirt.

He had loved this song...

The notes flowed like enveloping water, washing over her, and then slipping away. Softer and softer, the gentle fingers stroked her ears. She tried to shift back around to steal a glance at the boy, but every movement seemed to stir the scene up like the mud in a creek bed. She heard something over the sound of the song. Another voice.

Sound and vision dissolved from her focus as Riley became aware of something strange. Another smell was intruding on the soft scent of viera skin. It was sweet, like the perfume of flowers...jasmine.

"Curaga."

A surge of energy flowed into her like soothing water. The throbbing in her head began to ease. Her ears stung horribly. Though she tried, she couldn't open her eyes.

"Cure."

Another surge. The dull ringing in her ears began to fade away. Someone's fingers stroked her ears. She wondered if maybe she was still in the dream, but she couldn't be, because her senses were sharper here. She could hear an exotic, calm voice reciting spells.

Riley's eyes opened and found ruby eyes, brilliant against their background: a brown ceiling of stone. Fran sat with her legs folded under her, Riley's head on her lap, a bloodstained rag in one hand. To Riley's amazement, the smallest hint of a pitying smile shone in her ruby eyes.

"You have damaged your ears again, foolish child."

"Miss Fran…"

She immediately started to sit up, but was stopped as Fran put her hand to the young halfbreed's cheek. She wiped away tears that Riley hadn't even noticed were there.

"Not yet," Fran ordered gently. Avoiding the viera's jeweled red eyes, Riley obeyed and lay back down. Fran went back to stroking her ears with the rag, clearing them of blood. They still hurt. One of them was buzzing and she could only hear muffled rumbling from it. The other just hurt.

Riley tried not to meet Frans' eyes and looked around the cave instead. It was lit by sunlight and wasn't very deep, but it was wide, with a low ceiling just barely tall enough for a man to stand up in. Bags and traveling gear littered the ground; she recognized some of her companions' belongings. The only other person there was Vaan, who was stretched out on the far side of the cave with his bag under his head. He had one arm wrapped around his ribcage, but his back was turned, so she couldn't see if pain showed on his face. Couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not either.

"Did you fix Vaan?"

"He is alright," Fran assured. "Penelo has tended to him. He rests now."

"Penelo..." She trailed off. Penelo. Gods bless Penelo.

Riley kept staring at him, though, doubting. Not much could keep Vaan away from the center of the action. If he was missing whatever was going on with the Urutan, either it was just boring or he was too hurt to go. Maybe Penelo stopped him from going. Riley wouldn't have even thought to stop him.

"...I hurt him," Riley heard herself whisper.

Fran's only reply was, "Cure."

Riley only felt despicable as the spell washed over her, clearing her headache even more. "Please don't...do that anymore," she growled quietly.

"Where's everyone?" she mumbled, staring at Vaan's turned back.

Fran's voice was gentle so as not to sting her ears. "A disturbance with the Urutan-Yensa has drawn them away."

Riley's eyes widened, but before she could leap to her feet, Fran clamped two fingers on Riley's ear, holding her in place as surely as an anchor tether. "Not that kind," the viera explained as Riley whined in protest. "They are under no attack. The Urutan have called to a for aid. A moogle traveler has placed a mark on the head of their tormentor."

"Urutans can call for help...?" Riley muttered, wincing as Fran nursed the newest pain in her ear.

"Never has it happened before. That is what drew Balthier's interest."

"...You have to bring them back."

Fran's eyes narrowed as she heard the fear hidden in the girl's voice. "Why did you destroy the bridge?" she said evenly. By the tone of her voice, it wasn't a question.

Riley felt the same bolt of shock stab through her lungs as she remembered the bridge. She had forbidden the realization to return to her mind, but it returned now just as horribly as before. It took her a long moment to reply. "To stop...the Urutans."

"Mm." Fran picked up another dampened cloth and started cleaning the halfbreed's ears again. Riley knew she didn't believe her. That was a suckish lie. Since when did she have problems with lying?

She looked over at Vaan, wondering how many of his ribs had broken under her sweeping arm, and upon thrusting that thought away from herself she found a new kind of fear. She hadn't even meant to...well...she hadn't consciously...w-whatever! If she hurt him that much without even knowing, what would the focused strength of a halfbreed do? There were three of them who aimed for that and more. They could kill him. They could kill Basch. Balthier. Fran...

She wondered why her chief concern was for them. But...Riley was part of a group now. Everyone was expected to contribute to the safety of the whole. They were out in the open right now, hunting some mark, completely unaware that three Imperial monsters were purposefully seeking their lives. And if anything happened...if they found out it was her fault...

Riley closed her eyes, voice barely over a whisper. "My brothers are chasing us."

Fran's hands froze in place. Slowly, Riley moved to sit up, and this time Fran allowed her. Moving caused her headache to flare with a vengeance, so she leaned against the cave wall. "Half-viera Imperial soldiers are chasing us," Riley insisted, pleading now.

Lifting her head, she locked her desperate stare directly with Fran's eyes. "You have to bring them back!"

A sound from the other side of the cave drew their attention. Riley's eyes widened at the sight of Vaan getting to his feet, scooping up the belt that held his dagger. He belted it around his waist then bent down to retrieve his bag, slinging the strap across his chest. He also picked up another bag that had been laying around and carried it on his back.

"Vaan?"

He didn't look at her. Back turned, he stopped at the mouth of the cave. She heard him release a quiet breath, turning away his head. *He lifted his hand through the air, open palm extended towards her._ Come on.  
_

Riley felt the sting of tears, hot against her eyelids. She didn't try anything deft to hide them, just blinked them away. Rising to her feet meant leaving the gentle envelopment of Fran's care. But she had to. She was lucky for even this much...she could puzzle over _why_ later. Riley's claws scraped against the stone as she scooped her weapon belt from the floor. She slung it over her shoulder as she moved silently towards Vaan's silhouette. Basch's dagger swung gently against her shoulder with every step, its weight a golden comfort.

Vaan's hand dropped to his side as she joined him. He wouldn't meet her eyes, so she didn't even try. She was glad though. She was too scared and ashamed to look at his face.

They gathered the rest of the gear, putting the scattered articles back into the bags they belonged to. Riley picked up a white bag she assumed to be Penelo's and a heavy black one she didn't recognize. Must be Vossler's. She had to resist an urge to look inside them. Fran carried Balthier's pouch-lined belts and his satchel. She didn't try to stop them or even ask questions, and Riley knew that it was only because she agreed that urgency was imperative. Riley was glad for her wisdom. Anyone else would have been too dumb to act quickly like this. Anyone but Penelo, maybe. Gods bless them.

Again at the cave entrance, Vaan glanced back to see if they were ready. Jerking his dagger from its sheath, he set out with a pace quick and harsh. Riley followed, walking behind him now, rather than beside.

.~*~.

If there had ever been a situation in which Balthier had never imagined his profession may place him, it was this. Fighting alongside the Urutan-Yensa put his every nerve on edge and set his teeth to grinding. He never knew whether to expect a sudden blow from an impromptu ally. Then there was that hippopotanic landmass blundering about at the end of his gun barrel. Its precise name escaped him, so for now let's go with the name the dying Urutan have been shrieking in horror: the Urutan-eater.

The gigantic turtle-like monster spun around frantically, swinging its weight around at anything in range. Somewhere up front, tanking, Basch and Vossler occupied its attention. Ashe hovered about behind them, moving in whenever one of the men created an opening. Penelo darted about between the Urutan, making sure none of them turned on her companions, so that he saw little of her. They were a decent fighting party, that they were, but Balthier would like to have this thing disposed of quickly all the same. Fran wasn't here. He was no stranger to fighting alone, but there was something unbearably void about the empty space beside him. And every shot he fired seemed to bounce right off that infuriating shell; he could only do damage when he was lucky enough to hit its legs or its head. Or rather its face, for the thing didn't seem to have a defined head, rather a hole in its shell from which its tiny eyes peered and its beak-like mouth snapped furiously.

Balthier had just finished firing once more when an Urutan dashed past him. For whatever stupid reason, the Urutan kept running and launched its stupid self through the air, onto the creature's back. It slid down the smooth shell, accomplishing nothing except a useless death when it fell and was crushed beneath the monster's pillar-like foot. Had he been in less urgent circumstances, Balthier would have scoffed. As it was, he fired another shot. Excellent. Right into its ugly face. Reloading, he lamented that he couldn't spare a second to praise himself, because it didn't seem that the creature had given him credit for the crafty shot. It was taking out its newest rage on the princess and her captain. As he watched, the monster reared back on its hind legs, bringing its gargantuan weight down in an earth-splitting impact. Vossler, closest to the monster's feet, fell somewhere and became conceled by a cloud of sand and dust. Basch and Ashe both went flying backwards, crashing into the ground.

Well that surely wasn't in the script.

Basch tore his arms free of the sand, thrashing to his feet again. He couldn't seem to _find_ his feet, though. Staggering, he caught himself on one knee. He shook his head, blood-dampened hair whipping his face. He didn't have time for this… Where was Ashe? Vossler...he only hoped Vossler was awake to protect her. Basch forced himself to stand, prying his eyes open against the red fog that refused to leave his vision. Whichever way he looked, he could only see sand and dying Urutan-Yensa.

A gravelly, shrieking roar stabbed at his eardrums. He whirled in that direction and squinted at the sight of the Urutan-eater's giant form lumbering towards him. Something told him he ought to be doing something, but he didn't know what, because all he could think to do was find Ashe. The roar was closer this time.

His head snapped forward as something cracked into the back of his skull, shattering as it hit. Basch's blank stare turned to a wince of pain—but as the cold liquid seeped into his hair, In the next instant, he was diving forward, launching himself into a sideways roll. The monster's huge foot slammed down in the spot where he'd been kneeling.

Shaking off his shock as he rolled back onto his feet, Basch whirled around to see not Vossler, but Balthier, glaring at him with one eye twitching in aggravation. In the pirate's hand was not his aldebran*, but the broken neck of a potion bottle.

"My thanks," Basch yelled breathlessly.

"Thank your bloody thick skull," Balthier snapped back, already on the move again, reaching over his shoulder for his gun. He had gotten far too close in than he preferred-so close that the Ururtan-eater's stomping legs jarred the ground under his feet. The sooner he got out of its sights, the better.

But when he glanced over his shoulder, his jaw dropped rather uncharacteristically. The beast was following him. He scrambled faster, dashing over the sand, with the monster thundering along at his heels. He only had to keep ahead for a few seconds…just until Basch would attack it again, then draw its attention away…

When he glanced towards him, however, he caught a glimpse of Basch's turned back…running the opposite direction.

...Blast soldiers. Blast them all to the nine flaming layers. It was hilarious, if you thought about it. He'd brought this entirely on himself. A pirate shouldn't trust. Least of all, him, and least of all a soldier. Even a fallen one.

In the background, carried under the hungry shrieks of the monster at his heels, he could swear he heard Fran's quiet lament:_ "The gods toy with us."_

_..._

**"I will never let you fall.**  
**I'll stand up with you forever.**  
**I'll be there for you through it all."**

His eyes locked on Ashe, Basch sprinted at full speed across the battlefield. The princess was on her knees, one hand held to her head, her other digging through the sand frantically. Basch sprinted to her side, barreling through the few Urutan who had gathered around her.

"Majesty," he panted, pulling her to her feet. She stumbled and fell against him with a groan.

"S…sword…" she mumbled, though she barely remembered what the word even meant.

Glancing down, he saw the blade half-buried in the sand, inches from where she'd been searching. Basch stooped to gather it. His arm around her shoulders, he put the sword's handle into her hands.

"Curaga," he whispered. He hoped that in her half-waking state, the princess didn't hear him.

Finally, the fog began to clear from her mind, as if blown away by a cool breeze. She pried her eyes open. In an instant, she took in her surroundings. Battle-noise. A sword in her hand. Her shoulder wedged into his chest…she could feel his heart, heated and strong, beating for her.

Ashe shoved him away at once, breaking free of Basch's steady arms. "I'm fine," she snapped to his silence."Where's Vossler?"

"Nowhere to be found," Basch's low voice answered evenly.

Ashe felt her heart peirced by alarm. She looked up immediately and found the Urutan-eater. It was lumbering along as fast as it could—not very—chasing after something. Ashe's eyes widened; it was Balthier, running backwards as he fired his gun almost point-blank at the monster's face. He struggled to keep from tripping and a rage-filled grimace adorned his face. He was losing ground.

**"Even if saving you sends me to Heaven."**

She was running before any conscious decision, Basch fast at her heels. So set on watching Balthier's scrambling feet, urging him from across the field to hold on and keep running, she barely even registered the choked grunt that came from behind her. The sound of his body hitting the sand barely reached her ears. She was closing the distance, and Balthier was somehow managing to keep ahead...and maybe she'd make it after all...if only her legs would stop _stumbling_. The sand slipped from under her, and a small part of her felt that when she staggered to one knee, there should have been an arm to catch her...

She looked ahead again, to where Balthier had last been. Her eyes narrowed, squinting against light and distance. No, it wasn't a trick of her eyes; the figure darting across the battlefield was real. A man...she could only keep track of him because his hair was bright red. He'd seemed to appear from nowhere and now moved towards Balthier at a speed faster than she thought possible. Then Ashe had to blink in surprise to make sure she was still seeing straight, for she thought she'd seen the figure leap straight into the air, clearing Balthier's head by several feet. He was headed for the Urutan-eater, straight through the air. The silver flash of a sword dove through the air.

That was all she was allowed to see; at that moment, something solid and metal cracked against her skull. There was one sharp explosion of pain before her consciousness was extinguished like a blown candle.

The motion of being dragged across the ground was just enough to draw her back to the world. She seemed to be completely numb, save for a fiery throbbing on top of her head. Ashe heard a weak cry from her own lips as she was tossed against the sand, and for a brief moment, her eyes struggled open. Through a haze of dim fog, she barely made out a scarred, bristle-beard face. His eyes were softly closed. And somehow...it scared her...it was terrifying, because not one trace of emotion, not anger or pain even, was there to hint that he would wake. It scared her, who was never afraid. Who hated that scarred face. Who hated...she hated...

"Basch..." the whisper was so soft, she could hardly tell whether she'd actually breathed the word or simply imagined it._  
_

Ashelia fell again into blackness. But even as her mind slipped away from her again, she'd seen something she couldn't be sure of. But it...had to be. The muscles of his brow had moved, drawing so slightly together, and the sand just under his lips had shifted as if puffed away. She thought she heard him groan.

.~*~.

**"When you are with me…  
I'm free.  
Above all the others you'll fly.  
This brings tears to my eyes.**

**My sacrifice."**

Glaring down dutifully, the sun overhead glistened off the bright red pools that still seeped into the sand of its desert. The wind still howled over its domain, tousling the ragged, torn cloths that the Urutan-Yensa wore. The battlefield was a sight unlike any the two teenagers had seen before, and not one they had been entirely prepared for. Vaan had gone stark white, and the horror-stricken grimace on Riley's face was actually pretty funny to look at—especially when compared to Fran's indifferent gaze.

"Well," Riley mumbled shakily. "Looks like they took out the mark…"

The others followed her gaze to the edge of the carnage, where lay a huge green mound with a surface coated in a hard, smooth green shell. Looking more closely, you could see legs underneath it. Any exposed skin bore the cuts of some blade. It was about as dead as dead got. Fran could see a few blackened marks on the creature's shell. Clearly the remnants of gunshots.

"But where are they now," she pointed out rather than asked.

Riley tore her eyes away from the Urutan bodies and scanned the field. Nowhere here, that's for sure. Following Fran's lead, Riley forced herself to move out into the battlefield, grimacing as she stepped around corpses and blood-stains. She passed Vaan, but instead of coming with her, he stood frozen in place. His eyes were glued to a half-eaten Urutan body not feet away from where he stood.

"Hey," Riley mumbled, tapping his arm with the back of her hand. Snapping out of the daze, Vaan stepped over the body and followed her further into the carnage.

They joined Fran, who was similarly gazing down at an unfortunate Urutan, but one who apparently fell by a sword and not the giant tortoise. The teens watched curiously as Fran knelt beside the body, flipping it face-up as casually as if it were a roll-out carpet. Her ruby eyes narrowed sharply. Her hands darted for the creature's robes and she begun combing through it, searching for something.

"Fran, what're you—!" Vaan was cut off as Fran's hand tore something from a pocket in the cloak. A vial of High Potion. Rarely to be found when looting, but humanoid monsters sometimes carried more valuable things like that. Too bad it did it no good.

For a moment, Riley couldn't understand why Fran's eyes looked so sharp as she stared into the vial's shining liquid. But then, Vaan gasped through his teeth and realization crossed his eyes.

"Never leave the loot," he quoted, looking to Fran. The viera said nothing, still staring at the bottle. Finally, Riley's jaw dropped as she realized what they both had. Balthier would never have left something like that.

"Maybe they just didn't see it," Riley mumbled, but her voice held little conviction. They all knew Balthier was too tricksy for that.

Suddenly, Riley went completely rigid and stood stark upright, ears twitching beneath her bandanna. Coldness filtered through her body once more as she discovered a familiar fear and presence in the corners of her mind. Ignoring the disinterested questioning from Vaan, she stepped over the Urutan body and turned her eyes upward towards the surrounding cliffs. Her lips pulled back over her teeth, making way for a low growl to resonate from her throat. Her narrowed eyes were trained on one spot atop a low cliff-face about twenty feet away. Her companions could see nothing there.

"Tell us," said Fran's calm voice as she stood, pocketing the High Potion.

It took a moment for her to stop growling so that she could answer, in a snarling voice that hardly sounded like her own, "…My brother is here."

At that, all pretense of ambush was foiled, and hiding lost its point. Above the top of the cliff, a figure coated in gleaming metal stepped into view. Riley's sharpened vision could see the details of his dark eyes and his seething frown set behind the five-o-clock shadow. His jet-black ears were laid flat against his head.

Riley's own actions surprised her—but then again, it wasn't really her own choice to break into a full-out sprint towards the cliffs, drawing her dagger as she went. She was incredibly fast; in fact she had nearly reached the base of the rocks by the time the commanding voice slammed into her from behind to freeze her in her tracks.

"_Stop_!" Fran's exotic voice ordered, louder than she had ever heard the viera call. She'd never even heard the woman call out like that. That was the only reason it had stopped her.

Riley glanced back sharply, but Fran's seething eyes were trained on the soldier atop the cliff. Following her gaze, Riley saw why. She gritted her teeth, eyes widening, horrified at the sight. Jonathan had retrieved something from the ground, and now with no effort at all held out his prize over the side of the cliff. He dangled Balthier's limp body above the thirty-foot drop, holding him by nothing but the shoulder of his prized leather vest.

Vaan's vicious outcry rang over the landscape, reaching up to the cliff. He moved forward, breaking into a charge much as Riley had, dagger flashing out of his sheath.

"Do not!" The halfbreed soldier's voice stopped him, holding him in place. "I've got no reason not to drop him, so keep that in mind and behave."

Vaan glared murderously, daring not take another step.

There was only one if they could just get to him. Riley chanced a glance towards Fran and saw that she was one step ahead. The viera had drawn her bow in the blink of an eye, and for reasons she didn't want to explore, Riley was suddenly terrified that she might shoot him.

In deep, murderous tones, she ordered tremulously, "Put him down."

"Sure will," Jonathan chuckled. "All the way down. If you don't behave and put that away." Balthier dangled precariously over the open air as Jon swung his arm, demonstrating how easy it would be.

Shaking with the weight of fury, Fran held her stance for moments more. Finally, she turned the bow aside sharply and let the arrow smack into the ground at the base of the cliffs. Her seething eyes narrowed into venomous slits as a smirk grew on the soldier's face. He finally withdrew Balthier from the air and tossed him somewhere out of sight. Relieved beyond measure, Fran still couldn't stop a wince at the sound of his body hitting the ground.

"What do you want?" Vaan growled, drawing another grin from the halfbreed soldier.

Instead of answering, Jonathan turned his gaze towards the red-headed halfbreed, glaring up at him with her fists shaking at her sides. His black eyes darkened into pools of emotions: many of them all melted and mixed together. But the predominant one was hate.

"Hey there, sis."

Staring into his hard, bitter, empty smirk, Riley thought to herself that she wouldn't mind, after all, if Fran's arrow had found his heart. She wouldn't mind at all.

But it hadn't, and now she had to decide things. Riley hated decisions.

"We miss you up here."

Yeah yeah. She knew what he wanted. _Why_, she had no earthly clue, but it didn't matter. Vaan and Fran didn't matter either. Balthier, his closed eyes and feet dangling over the air, didn't matter. Basch was up there, too, she figured. Ashe probably, and Penelo. Ashe mattered a great deal to the Empire, but at the very least, she could get the others free. Then Vaan and Fran wouldn't have to come after them. Basch would chase that stupid princess to the ends of the world, but she'd figure out about Basch later.

"Hey!" Vaan protested, enraged at being ignored on top of everything else. "I said what do you—"

"I'll come," Riley snapped at Jon, cutting Vaan off mid-word.

Vaan was struck silent. His eyes slowly turned her way. Still locking eyes with Jon, Riley didn't meet his astonished stare. But at least it was nice to know he felt that way.

Jonathan's grin faded, but she knew he was satisfied. He turned away and disappeared from the edge of the cliff. Riley bowed her head.

"Riley!" Vaan stormed to her side, snatching her by the arm. "What was that about! You maniac, what are you thinking of doing?"

She didn't answer or raise her head. Her face hidden by a curtain of fiery curls, Vaan couldn't see her mouth moving. But then, a light caught his eye; he glanced down to see that her hands were glowing with faint purple.

Eyes widening, Vaan returned his horrified gaze to her face. "Y-you…maniac..."

She raised her head, meeting his gaze. Her amber eyes were rimmed with tears, mouth open as if the word was caught in her throat. For a moment, he thought she might not be able to do it.

"Immobilize."

Vaan's legs folded beneath him, losing all strength as they went completely numb. He cried out in protest as he hit the ground. She'd done it…she really was going to do this…! "Riley!" he snarled as she stepped carefully around him. "What are you doing? _Stop it!_"

Vaan was one thing, but Fran she almost couldn't bring herself to curse. But her instincts took over, because the older viera was already casting. Probably Silence, knowing her. But Fran's magic had been delayed by a moment of shock; Riley was already halfway through her own spell by the time Fran began preparing hers.

"Immobilize," she choked out, and squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see the viera fall to the ground.

Her spell useless now, Fran shoved herself away from the ground. "Riley," Fran snapped, her beautiful voice commanding like an angry mother. "_Stop this._ You must not go to them without us."

Vaan she didn't worry about, but Fran was smart. She had to make absolutely sure the viera couldn't find a way to stop her.

"Disable!" Riley cried. The spell shot from her hands and towards Fran. When it hit, her arms went numb as well and she collapsed to the ground. Riley had cast it with her eyes closed.

She turned away, a sob escaping her despite her best efforts. As she walked towards the cliffs, Vaan was spitting curses at her from behind, and flailing in the sand as he failed repeatedly to get to his feet. Dumb blonde. He was so easy to outfox. Fran's voice again ordered her to stop. She did believe these were the most soothing sounds she'd heard in years.

They wanted to come with her. They wanted her to be safe. It was nice to know that she had that… They'd given her treasure she didn't deserve. Treasure she hadn't stolen.

Someone was coming down the cliff to meet her, jumping from ledge to ledge on the cliff like it was no problem. It was a woman halfbreed that she didn't know. She flipped into the air and simply fell the last ten feet, landing in a roll that brought her effortlessly back to her feet. She stood waiting with her hands on her hips at the base of the cliff.

Riley stopped, but didn't dare turn around. Clenching her fists at her sides, she swallowed down the stupid tears that wouldn't let her speak. In the end, she could only choke out a breathless, pathetic one word.

"Thanks…"

As she approached the beautiful, cold-faced woman, the soldier extended her hand. Riley took it with little hesitation; what choice was there now? In one incredible move, the woman jerked on her arm, crouching as she did so. The end result was that Riley got slung over her shoulder like a sack of flour, hoisted into the air. Before she could resist, the woman leapt again onto the sheer face of the cliff, scaling it like a mountain goat.

Amazing. Riley had never been able to do anything like this. As the halfbreed woman carried her up the rocks, she focused all her strength on getting rid of the tears. The last person she wanted to show them to was Jon.

"What are you doing—fight her! Fight back, you idiot! You_ idiot!_"

_'I'm not an idiot, Vaan. I'm a maniac. Call me a maniac. Okay?'_

"Coward! You're a _coward_, Riley!_ Fight back!"_

His furious curses chased her from the bottom of the cliff. But like her friendship and his jinxed legs, his voice was useless. Only one thought comforted her. It even brought a wry grin to her face.

Now she really wouldn't have to apologize.

**.~*~.**

**"If you find your family, don't you cry,  
In this land of make-believe, dead and dry.  
You're so cold, but you feel alive.  
Lay your hand on me one last time."**

The woman set her on her feet at the top of the cliff. Riley moved away from her instantly, straightening out her clothes. What a way to travel. Out of sight of the battlefield below, Riley nevertheless could still hear Vaan's fruitless cries. But they were tapering off. He'd quit in a few seconds. When he realized how stupid he sounded.

Because she couldn't avoid it, Riley turned her eyes toward the metal-coated figure that stood to greet her. Jonathan's eyes hadn't changed at all. But Riley's attention was drawn by something else: on the ground behind him were the rest of her party, bound and gagged. Balthier was still out cold. So was Ashe, and Vossler beside her. Wow—Vossler. His head was practically drowned in blood, soaked in bright red. Penelo was conscious. Riley's eyes locked her for a minute, then turned to Basch. She was sure that never had there been a more degrading sight than that of Captain Ronsenberg in captivity. Is that anything like what he'd looked like in his years of imprisonment under the Empire? …No. There was fire in his eyes now. He was outraged, but helpless. She saw injuries on him.

Before she could be silenced, Riley blurted out, "They're okay—Vaan and Fran. They're fine…" She met Penelo's eyes again, and the other girl's eyes spilled over with tears. She couldn't talk through the cloth around her mouth, but Riley heard her gratitude clearly.

Gods bless… She had to free Penelo first.

Jonathan sidestepped, cutting off her view. Her eyes were steel again in an instant, lips drawing back over her teeth. Before she knew it, her body had instinctively moved into a comfortable, ready crouch. She balanced on the balls of her feet. It was a stance that could spring into a charge at any moment. And he couldn't stop her.

At her side, the dark-haired woman tensed. In a flash, she'd drawn a wickedly serrated dagger from a sheath on her arm. "Told you we should have bound her," she shot at Jon.

Resignedly, he growled, running a hand down his face. "Well bind her _now_."

Binding her…restraint. Restraint was her bane. Her pinpoint eyes darted towards Penelo and Basch. That was all the trigger she needed.

Riley shot forward, releasing the wild, high-pitched snarl of a beast. While the woman at her side jolted after her, Jonathan stepped back with one foot and held his arms out and ready, prepared to meet her head-on. Riley drew Basch's dagger and brandished it high above her head. Not even that inexplicable fear of his death could overpower her instincts now.

But, in a split second flash of emerald green, one sight was all it took to freeze her inside and out, stealing away all her breath and momentum.

All was blasted away, as if a torrent of hurricane wind had swooped down and turned everything inside her to ice. She froze in place, dagger still gripped in whitening knuckles high over her head. Her amber eyes widened to saucers, irrevocably captured by the dark gaze of his emerald eyes.

Unable to move, unable to breathe, Riley could only stare. But his eyes…sunken in his sallow face, his bloodshot eyes were more red than green. Those eyes could not belong to her brother…

This was a shadow. It was barely Allan at all.

The frozen moment couldn't hold. It was shattered in one instant. By him. Riley stared in complete disbelief as Allan darted forward, expression cold as stone. His fist was cocked back for a strike.

Fireworks of pain burst across the side of her head, and then she was falling and time again seemed to slow. The ground would take forever to rise up and meet her. The whole way down she was left nothing but to stare into those glistening emerald eyes, brilliant against their backdrop of red hair and desert sunlight, and wonder how, in this wide world of darkness and betrayal, she had ever thought Allan would still love her.

Strong arms caught her before the ground did. Blackness took her before she could find out who they belonged to.

**.~*~.**

* * *

*****To fully understand the significance of what Vaan does here, re-read the scene in chapter 3 where they yell at each other.

*For my (nevertheless beloved) nooby readers who haven't played the game, an aldebran is a type of gun.

**A/N:** Hahah! XD I love everything with Riley and Vaan. Finally I get to make him a substantial character, not just a useless observer to the storyline. Also, I would like to dedicate the cave scene with Fran to Kibasgirltsumi, since I know you love Fran so much and I haven't focused on her a lot so far. ^-^  
So, special thanks to Kiba, and also to Evanescently and ArchadianRose for being my main reviewers. Rock on guys! *headbangs to loud music in your honor*

Also, how about that ending? *evil laughter* Oh man. I love being a writer. I can torture my readers and my characters to my heart's content. And rest assured, there will be plenty more torture to come in the next chapters.

You're all under my all-powerful control! Dance for me, my masochistic puppets! Dance! XDD

Balthier is gonna be so mad at me when he wakes up.

**Lyric headings:** "Love Me When I'm Gone" by Three Doors Down, "Behind Closed Doors" by Rise Against, "Animal I Have Become" by Three Days' Grace, "I'm Just Your Problem" from the cartoon 'Adventure Time with Finn and Jake' (vocals by Rebecca Sugar aka Marceline), "Your Guardian Angel" by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, again with "My Sacrifice" by Creed, and finally "So Cold" by Breaking Benjamin.


	14. Blood and Selfishness

Moved by instant reflex, Allan caught her in a secure embrace as she collapsed. Crouching to one knee, he lowered her gently to the ground, sitting her down on the rough stone with her back resting against his leg. Allan held her tentatively, as if suddenly she were no less dangerous than a time bomb. A perfect description, though nearly impossible to accept. It was so hard to imagine Riley as a threat of any kind. Partly because her eyes were still so gentle when they were closed. Her head rested across his leg and tilted back towards the sky, curly hair falling like a flaming waterfall. Still just as red as ever. It was the only thing she'd kept, it seemed. This was the first time he'd seen it so clean. It shone even brighter, like silk on fire.

This was his sister.

"Black powder, Al…" Jonathan's voice was about as close to surprised as it ever got. The rope dangled from his hand, but he didn't move.

Danica passed in front of him, snatching the rope with a grumbling sigh. Jon's stare at his brother was interrupted while he glared at Danica.

"I didn't—" Al cut himself off in a jolt of shock. He'd caught sight of her ears. His teeth ground together. He thought he'd been sure not to hit her that hard. Allan mumbled through his teeth, "Didn't know what you'd do."

Boots crunched against the stone beside him, helping him to tear his eyes away. Danica knelt unexpectedly with him and reached for Riley's hands. She still held the rope.

A sharp, vicious growl resonated from somewhere right beside him. Danica's stern-edged eyes snapped up to meet his. It took Allan quite a long few seconds to realize that the snarl came from his own throat. He stopped immediately, blinking his eyes. It had been quite some time since he'd felt that.

female reached out again, met with no protest from Allan. Danica scowled as she bound the girl's wrists, cursing the Empire for sticking her with these idiots. They really couldn't do anything at all by themselves. Jonathan was a blockhead, and now Allan was just useless. What a life, that she could be stuck in places like this at a Judge's whim.

What a life to be your sister's captor.

She tied the kid's hands tightly, even winding the rope around her fingers to render her claws useless. She tied her feet up to her shins. When she tied the cloth gag on, she made sure to do it gently; Al was watching her like a hawk. Finished, Danica moved as if to pick her up.

"It's fine," Allan interrupted, stopping her. He managed a glancing expression of gratitude. Sliding his arm under her shoulders, he lifted his sister bridal-style and carried her to the others. He laid her gently beside the other young girl, ignoring the blonde's tearful glare. As he moved away, Penelo moved closer to Riley and gently brushed back her hair to look at where she'd been hit.

Allan turned, eyes pointed towards the edge of the cliff. The teenage boy on the plain below was still yelling every so often, but now it was mainly just curses. Part of him curious, Al started towards the edge of the cliff, but he passed Jon on the way. He gave a jolt at the weight of a hand placed on his shoulder. Turning, he met his brother's stare.

In Danica's eyes, the gaze was far too cold and hard for Jon to be giving his weary brother. Her own eyes hardened in anger. She even opened her mouth, ready to yell at Jonathan—to hate and rebel against Jonathan, until anger granted weariness and her breaking point was left far behind. It was only a fleeting glimpse of a thought, quickly defeated by the better question of: why would she care?

But Allan's eyes softened, leaving behind pain for sadness, as he cast his gaze to the stone.

"She looks older."

The deep affection in his voice defeated her anger. Immediately Danica's eyes shifted to Jon. It had only been a question in his eyes. Not a challenge or a glare.

Jonathan's eyes locked on his brother's tortured face, his jaw clenching steadily, until he could finally answer. "Yeah," he replied curtly, because that's the closest he could get to what he was _supposed_ to say. What Danica thought he should say.

He stopped at the edge of the cliff and his gaze traveled into the valley. Suddenly, a low chuckle found its way past his lips. "Black powder. This kid." Jon stopped to look for a second, then the laughter came even louder. The thrashing kid at the bottom of the cliff, flailing about on his paralyzed legs, conjured an image of a beached Yensa fish. Trembling with breathy laughter, he draped a hand over his eyes. Jon couldn't for his life's sake get the picture out of his mind.

Danica glared ferociously at his shaking shoulders, while Allan's eyes remained veiled in shadow as he stared at the ground.

His fit tapering off, Jonathan chuckled, "Well. Guess we better go play fetch. 'fore the spells wear off."

"…We can take the paths now," Allan answered quietly.

"Yup." Jonathan ran a hand down his grinning face. He turned away from the hilarious scene below them and stalked along the right edge of the cliff, where far along the line a thin and rocky path had been cut to lead down. "One of you stay with the rats." For a passing glance, Jon turned his sharp black eyes towards the halfbreed girl, his brother's sister, laid out gently on the rough stone.

Allan squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with a shaking hand.

….

He descended the crooked path with little heed for his surroundings. Alone, finally alone in the shadow of the cliffs, he stared at his barbed and armored boots on the stone. His eyes were seething again.

Was he the only sane lunatic around these days? Not one of them saw what he did. For all her puffy ego and bratty superior attitude, that woman was no smarter or better than he was. And Allan. That moron. Why did _his_ brother have to be such a weak idiot? If he only saw what Jon did...

Curse the day that girl was ever brought into the world. Curse the day Allan's sinewy childhood arms had first reached out and taken the bundle of cloth from his mother's arms. Jon had watched the day when Allan first held the bundled-up wad of disease that was his baby sister. He could never know what a parasite it was, wrapped up so lovingly in her mother's coat, that his bright emerald eyes gazed at and in boyish wonder found beauty. She would never let go. As they grew older, so did her hold on him.

Older. Yeah. An older coward. An older traitor. He didn't see why his eyes were supposed to soften when he looked at her, or his voice was supposed to carry tender regret, or sorrow, or stupid crap like that. She wasn't his sister.

…No. She wasn't.

The one small part of him in her was strength. She was stronger with age. She'd willingly given herself up out of loyalty, and as she stared him full in the face, her eyes had shown defiant anger—no pathetic pleading or tears. But it wouldn't last. Her strength had crumbled the minute she set eyes on Al.

Older, wilder. But as selfish and stupid a traitor as ever. She was still a coward, and no sister of his.

Jonathan paused once to glance back toward the path. Neither of them had come down yet. Jon resumed pounding down the mountainside. One would have to come. It would be Allan, or no one at all.

….

Danica stood immediately to follow. She welcomed the chance to give him an earful. Maybe for Allan's sake she would be able to hold back enough not to bash his head in. He was infuriating. She could care less about the kid sister… But this thick-skulled idiot who called himself halfbreed had no right to be in his warped family. She didn't give a crap if she was wrong! Yelling at him wouldn't matter and she'd only make herself look like a fool—but better a fool relieved than a self-tormented wisewoman!

A quiet voice cut her off mid-stride. "Wait."

Danica stopped, surprised to see Allan looking her way. His green eyes were empty and sunken again.

"Will you stay?"

Indignant, Danica's face twisted up with insult.

"Please," he insisted, and his soft voice cracked, forcing him to stop. He swallowed hard. "So I don't have to."

The voice and the sight of his eyes dragged her anger far down in her chest, to the cold parts inside her, where her heart was. Where motivation became useless and fell apart like wet paper. "No" was the obvious answer. "No," it was selfish of him, at her expense. But then, he knew that. It was in his knowing stare and in his smile of sorrow and resignation. They all lived selfish, didn't they? Every one of them. Even Alika. Especially Alika.

It was unfair. One brother aroused her anger to the heat of sunfire, while the other was always close by to douse it with cool water.

"Yeah fine," Danica muttered curtly.

His selfishness was the nobler one here.

Allan's smile was soft and grateful. Danica flipped her hair and looked away so that she wouldn't glare at him. He followed his brother and soon disappeared down the cliff face.

Danica glanced at the "rats," all thrown together off to the side. Her eyes met those of young blonde girl, who held Riley's head in her lap. She glared through tears. Danica's face twitched into disgust, nose up as she turned away. She dropped cross-legged to the stone, her chin in her palm. The other hand was planted on her knee, nails loudly tapping against her armored boots. She glared at the distant sand dunes and rocky hills.

Men. She hated stupid men and prissy little girls. Why must she be surrounded by both?

…In the _desert?_

...

Jonathan's ears twitched at the sound of footsteps behind him, scuffling on the treacherous staircase of stone. Boots. Heavy, leather boots. Jon paused for only a moment. His rough-hewn face smoothed gently. He kept walking, listening to Allan's boots scuffling down the rocks behind him.

Not many sounds were yet sweet to Jonathan's numb ears. This one was.

.~**~.

**"And all she wants is just a little piece of their strength.  
Is that too much to ask?  
If I could be like that…I would give anything  
Just to live one day in those shoes.  
If I could be like that, what would I do?"**

The tapping of her boots along the polished wood floor sounded, to her ears, small and unimpressive. From the shuffling her sensitive ears also picked up among the perfect line of soldiers, she knew that the same went for them. They were used to hearing Danica's low-heeled boots clacking, quick and sure, along every outskirt of their ranks. As she paced along the front row of strong, sturdy men, with their bored stares and long restless legs, she wished once more that she were taller. Maybe she should get herself some heeled boots.

Ugh, no. That's Danni's. Milk would work just fine.

She stopped abruptly, not facing her men. _Her men_, she reminded herself. They listened to her. She was responsible for them.

Alika turned on her heel, her long sleeves floating out around her. In all, it was not an imposing appearance. The shirt she wore was something of an Archadian design. It was more of a buckled leather torso with silken sleeves that ran from her shoulders to metal bracers on her wrists. The color of these was somewhere between a deep red and rich orange. Alika wore little armor, just bracers on her wrists and shins, as well as the leather. Her hair was in a coronet today, wrapped once around her head with rest of the the braid falling freely at the back. Light brown ears poked from between the hairstyle.

She knew that her chosen wardrobe did nothing to make her slender, short frame any more impressive or commanding. It also did nothing to slow her down. The men—her men didn't see that. They knew little of subtlety.

The clarity and strength of her voice would always be imperative. Alika tried not to let nervousness waver it. In a high, clear tone, she repeated the orders which Danica had taught her, going through the routine they had been accustomed to under her authority. First was sword sparring, since they were supposed to have warmed up with individual exercises before they even came to the training gym.

The ranks broke unevenly, with traces of organization. Soon they were all paired off with their neighbor, each pair standing (more or less) seven feet apart from another pair. Alika didn't really remember how far apart they were supposed to stand.

"Go," she barked. The gym echoed with the sound of two hundred swords being drawn. Alika flattened her ears as the stinging song of metal erupted. Dang, that just got louder every time.

She paced among the ranks and went, for the most part, ignored. Bark some orders and walk around like a ghost. That's all she'd done over the last few days. Not so hard, eh? But she was beginning to think that it was more than coincidence that, when she passed close by certain soldiers, she would have to narrowly dodge a "stray" lunge of a sword. More than once.

As she passed by a fighting couple of soldiers, she noticed something about the fight was becoming a bit more than sparring. It was one huge guy just pounding away at his smaller opponent, never even giving the poor guy a chance to blink. The second solider had a gentle voice and an unkempt crop of sandy-brown hair. Couldn't be over twenty. His body frame, built more for speed than the bulky strength of his opponent, struggled to withstand each blow. The high school bully and the intellectual geek.

Alika was content to ignore it. Surely he wouldn't kill him, and that's all that mattered to her bosses. But then, as she passed, the brown-headed soldier let out a cry. Alika's ear twitched. With a growl under her breath, she glared forward emptily, ears dropped back.

Alika spun on her heel to see the brown-headed soldier flat on his back, sword spinning across the floor. She imagined little yellow and stars dancing around his head. And no matter how funny that was, the sight of him, helpless in his tyrant's shadow, could conjure nothing but anger. Whether she could handle this giant in a fight didn't matter anymore. The larger soldier wasn't stopping. He might actually kill this man. Her man. What was she supposed to do? Was it even that serious? Was she supposed to yell, or would it make her look stupid?

But then, the soldier raised his sword, cocking back his arm. Alika's eyes widened. Without a thought, she launched forward.

In the next instant, the frozen scene found her standing between the two soldiers. Both hands around the large man's wrist, she held his sword arm in place. The blade of his sword rested on her shoulder, leaking small red rivulets into her fine Archadian shirtsleeve. But she held his gaze, never once allowing pain or fear to infect her anger. Only shock read in his eyes, and it was the only thing keeping him from overpowering her with sheer strength.

It wore off quickly. The man's eyes filled with rage and a growl rose in his throat. Alika felt his muscle flex under her hands, and then, the fiery pressure of pain erupting in her shoulder.

She heard a small squeak escape her throat, and would have cursed herself for it, except she was preoccupied with the pain. She was wrong...what the heck was she thinking anyway? She may as well be trying to stop an airship as this guy's arm.

Alika dug in her heels and squeezed her eyes shut, a low whine streaming from behind her teeth. Her throat closed up with pain and unshed tears.

From behind her, she heard laughter. Her ears twitched, popping up from her head. It was his voice. The brown-headed soldier. He was laughing

Alika's eyes snapped wide open.

Grinding her teeth, she turned her whine into a growl. She was the only one who could save herself.

Alika snapped her gaze up, meeting the soldier's. Her eyes held a smile of hatred. The second of confusion was all she needed from him.

Alika dropped her shoulder, letting the sword slide off her arm, tearing open her long sleeve. At the same time, she was moving her feet. Spinning deftly, she pivoted on her left leg, hooking her right foot around his left.

_"You've gotta be meaner."_

She pulled his foot right out from under him, and as he fell forward, his face met with her swinging elbow, snapping back his head and sending blood flying from his nose.

_"Stronger."_

Releasing a strong shout, clear and sharp, Alika linked her fists together for leverage and twisted to ram her other elbow into his gut. Right beneath his ribcage, it was the one spot she could hit to damage him most with her little amount of power.

As the soldier doubled over, Alika was suddenly repositioned three feet in front of him. Gasping for air, the soldier looked up...just in time to catch her boot in the face.

Alika replaced her foot lightly on the ground, not so much as tapping her boot on the ground. The soldier was on one knee, spitting blood, muttering awestruck curses. The red-smeared sword clutched in his fist had been completely useless. From his ragged breathing, she guessed it was pretty hard for him to breathe. His nose was broken.

Panting, clutching her bleeding shoulder, she stared down at him. And then...a beautiful, fox-like, dazzling smile spread over her face. "Killing while training is counter-productive. Please don't do it anymore," she cooed in her sweetest, prettiest little voice.

Alika turned away, intending to leave then, before the shock wore off and they all realized that she was wounded far worse than her soldier. But as she turned, she met face-to-face with the brown-haired man. She stared into his shocked expression, the grin wiped clean off her face.

"There is nothing a Lieutenant Commander's ears don't hear." Her eyes narrowed hatefully, fists shaking at her sides. "You probably deserved it."

Alika turned and stalked away. Just for her own comfort, she kicked the man's dropped sword as she passed it.

The crowd she attracted stared her down as she crossed the endless training hall, trying to keep her footing steady. She knew leaving would look like weakness...cause it was. But the blood loss was making her dizzy. It'd be even worse if she collapsed in the middle of training.

As she struggled to reach the infirmary, thoughts jumbling up hazily, she tried to focus on the satisfying feel of the soldier's nose crunching under her boot. But the implications of her cheap fight and her torn shoulder were clear.

These were Danica's men. Not hers.

They would tear her apart.

.~**~.

**"It's 3 am, it's cold outside,**  
**And you can't sleep.**  
**Is it from your conscience talking**  
**To the skeletons you keep?**

**And she can't turn the other cheek."**

Her dreams were haunted by every memory of Allan that she'd ever suppressed. His skinny arms around her bony shoulders, the smell of his body, the infallible strength of his malnourished muscles. His heartbeat reverberated in her ears, echoing, throbbing. Scenes flashed one on top of the other. Allan limping towards her corner, clutching hunks of meat from the dinner pile. She saw his back arch as the cattle-prods twisted his small frame with agony. Brilliant against the darkness, electricity jumped between his body and the mesh iron walls. The screams that she'd forgotten returned to assault her bloody ears.

It was far too long before she she did, it was hard to open her eyes. She realized it was because of tears. Riley blinked until she could see. Next to her, several shapes were strewn across the dark rocks. None of them appeared to be awake. It was dark, so she couldn't tell who they were. When she tried to rub her eyes, she discovered her hands were practically cocooned by rope.

Not daring to sit up, she strained her neck to look around. They had moved. Still on the cliffs, from what she could tell, they had taken shelter in a wide crag-like depression in between the rocky hills. She smelled fire.

She craned her neck around, scraping her chin on the sandstone. About teen feet away, the three of them were clustered around a small campfire. A jolt of terror shot through her when she saw Allan. Not that anything particularly shocking was going on. It was just the sight of him. He was asleep, his back turned to the others as he lay with a pack under his head as a pillow. There were blankets laying around, but he wasn't using them.

Then Riley's eyes shifted, and immediately she caught sight of a firelit scowl, splayed with deep shadows. Jonathan's eyes were locked on her.

Riley resisted the urge to look away. It took all that she had, but she absolutely could not allow herself to submit to that stare. She matched the glare with one of her own, wishing looks could burn.

"What?" a rich female voice asked, sounding less than interested. Riley glanced over to see the halfbreed woman. She was half-laying on the other side of the fire, propped comfortably on her elbow. The orange light and shadows brushed against her smooth, tan skin.

She kept staring at the darkness even when Jon turned back to the fire, poking it with the spit they'd cooked that night's meal on. The fire flared briefly. From the wall of shadow, a pair of amber eyes flashed, like when a beam of light passes over the eyes of some nocturnal predator. Danica bolted to a half-crouch, immediately reaching for the dagger mounted on her upper arm. Jon's eyes flicked lazily towards her.

Danica recollected herself quickly. The feral look left her eyes and she settled back down, growling quietly to herself. A quiet chortling sound caught her ears. She laid them flat against her head.

"I'm not used to having company," she snapped.

"Ay I didn't say _nothin_."

Danica snorted, tossing her hair. Her dark brown curls were lustrous in firelight.

She wished Allan would wake up. Well, no; the moron needed his sleep. But she wished she didn't have to be alone with his brother, at least. Staring at his sleeping form, his back turned, she couldn't help thinking about things that were none of her business. How this whole mission must mess with him. It messed with her and she had nothing to do with these guys. But how would she react if it were Alika who was the heretic?

Didn't matter. Her kid sister wasn't that brave.

Danica's eyes reflected the firelight for a quiet moment. "It's freezing. Why does he sleep like that?" she mumbled, breaking the silence once more.

Jonathan grunted softly, and she had to resign to silence. But then, a shuffle of boots on stone caught her attention, as Jon rose to his feet. He scooped up one of the discarded blankets and threw it over Allan's shoulders, not bothering to straighten it out. His brother didn't so much as stir.

Danica's eyes were trained on him as Jonathan retook his spot, sitting cross-legged as he poked the fire lazily. Then, her gaze shifted over his shoulder, towards the darkness where Riley's eyes flashed in the firelight. Danica felt a sudden urge of spite. A thought jumped through her mind and leapt away before she could grasp it: _'I hope she stays awake. I hope she sees it all.' _

Then, a small measure of her wished she didn't have to see it all. To see her brother like this. To cause it. A passing moment in Danica's mind wished that he and the kid could run off in the night like a pair of thieves and leave her alone to complete her mission. Her and Jon, they'd complete the mission. They wouldn't leave.

...Allan could. If he really tried.

As the epiphany struck, Danica could think of nothing else. It was true. Allan could steal his sister and leave tonight if he wanted. Just run across the plains and sand dunes and hide, and live, forever in freedom. The Empire would have far bigger fish to fry. Because she and Jon would still be here, handing over the princess, carrying out the orders. But Allan? Why did _he_ do what they wanted? The worst part was...she wasn't in favor of him running. Not really. Not that she opposed it. Rather she couldn't bring herself to support it.

Danica wouldn't run. She knew the answer now: If it was Alika instead of Riley, and her instead of Allan, she wouldn't run away. She would bring her own sister back to the clutches of her masters.

_'Why do we do it?_' It wouldn't leave her alone. Never had the lives, the slavery of others—of herself—affected her like this. Life was unfair and you got over it. Anyone who couldn't was an idiot. _That's_ what she believed. She shouldn't care. She didn't care.

...But he could leave. _'Why won't he?' _

_'...Why can't I?'_

Danica suddenly gave a frustrated growl, shoving herself off the stone to sit upright. Then, crazily, she laughed. "It's all so stupid!" she marveled, as across the fire Jon's lazy eyes flicked toward her again.

Jonathan blinked at her in surprise.

"Everything! Everything we do," she answered his stare. "Why do we do _anything_?"

His demeanor sank. Back into aggravation. Like he'd thought he found a diamond, then realized it was just the same shiny stone. Jon's eyes went back to the fire."Please stop talking."

"You can't tell me that. That's about all we can do is talk. I'm not about to _stop."_

His eyes flickered toward her, lips pulled back. "Shut up," he growled.

Danica stared at him, indignant, squaring up her shoulders. This would draw him out. This would bring back the voice he'd abandoned. "No!" she spat, sassing him. The effect was just what she'd expected, but the results were something she wasn't prepared for.

Jon's sudden snarl was accompanied by a bout of sparks from the fire as he stabbed the stick into its heart. His eyes snapped towards her. She was caught off guard by the severity in his gaze. It wasn't that she didn't know he'd be furious. That was the only way to him: through anger. It was the authority that took her by surprise. Under those eyes, her sassy defiance looked so much like a child's thinking that she even began to believe the ruse was true.

"I hate nothing more than weak hypocrites and lies," Jon spat venomously.

Danica's mouth dropped open. "As do I!" she protested.

Disgust filled his face as he watched her jaw set in defiance. Something, some door in his outer shell, was giving way, and she wasn't sure anymore that she wanted to see inside.

"When was the last time," his deep voice challenged, "that you talked back?"

She could only stare, jaw dropping incredulously. He was _crazy_, to talk like that. And arrogant talking to _her_ like that! So why did all her arguments falter before they left her mouth?

"When have you ever used that pretty voice of yours to question an order? Those royal shoulders fall just as low as everyone else under the whip. Ain't that right, Duchess?"

Stumbling for words, Danica finally was able to shoot back, "You know what they'd do. To any of us."

"Yeah. So why do we do anything?"

Jonathan held her astonished gaze as silence reigned, caught in the dark, in the firelight. She was frozen and breathless, trapped in those dark, sharp, wondrous eyes. He turned back to the fire. The spell was broken...he released her. Danica had to beat back a sudden feeling of loss and longing. It left her floundering. She struggled to grasp anger, indignation. It wasn't...fair...

"Why do we talk at all, if we can't when it matters?" His rough voice was empty; it carried no more anger, nor passion.

Danica's almond eyes narrowed painfully as she turned to stare into the dancing tongues of flame. She thought, strangely enough, of the halfbreed girl. Is this what Jon felt, when he thought of his traitorous sister? It wasn't fair. She had been free of all this...she didn't even _know_ about it. She knew where the disgust in his eyes came from. She felt it herself.

_'I hope you see...everything.'_

Allan had to know, didn't he? Couldn't he understand at all? Danica looked up, away from the fire, to his sleeping form. Like the Sandsea's tide on the rocky shore, his shoulders rose and fell gently under the blanket. He was so silent. It couldn't be ignorance that kept him so devoid of frustration. That stole his will to resent. If Danica had ever been stupid enough to hope, it was now. She hoped he had a reason...that he _chose_ to endure such pain. That he wasn't just a guileless victim.

He had to have a reason.

Jonathan allowed his eyes to shift towards her turned face for a moment. Suddenly, like nothing he'd ever expect of himself, a surge of curiosity rose up to demand that he know what she was thinking. Feeling. No, he knew what she was feeling. But...was it about him?

After a struggle against thought, Jon looked back into the fire, and stoked it again with the stick. Because he couldn't talk when it mattered, either.

He couldn't even follow her gaze.

_.~**~._

Even before he opened his eyes, he knew the day was just going to be _glorious_. Every muscle ached. Light stung his eyes through the lids so that he saw red. There was a buzzing noise plugging up his ears that refused to leave. His head was killing him.

Dear _gods_, let it be a hangover...

Not so. He wasn't so lucky. Balthier's eyes opened unto the stinging light of morning. He tried to raise a hand to shield his eyes, but his wrists were tied together. Instantly he was aware of the absence of his gun.

Balthier sighed, eyelids dropping in a dull glare. The _Strahl_'s weight in gold wasn't worth so much.

He was hardly surprised to be jerked from the stone by rough hands. That vest of his sure made it easy to manhandle him. True to character, the first thing he did was not to look for his companions, but for his captors. All three of them were present. All...three. Bugger it all. In conversations with Fran, when the moments came up in which they talked about avoiding entrapment, Balthier had boasted often that it would take an army or two to catch him. What would she say now?

Blast it. He'd gladly welcome anything that insufferable creature had to say—insults and superiority included.

As he was shoved forward, he caught a glimpse of Captain Ronsenberg. Like a bear on an iron leash. Because it didn't matter, Balthier chuckled drily.

Squirming against the iron grip of the black-headed halfbreed, Basch spared a glance towards his pirate companion. Balthier was restrained by the stone-faced redheaded soldier. But Basch's gaze returned immediately towards Ashelia. His liege was being tied to the other females, and Vossler, in a single line of many ropes. The woman soldier was in charge of this, and she put Ashe in the very front of the line. Basch fought without thinking, trying to throw off his captor's grip, but only received a knee to the small of his back. His legs unheeding, he was shoved to the end of the line and tied to the rope behind Balthier: three people away from Lady Ashe. They never would have gotten his ropes secured without help from the dizziness that assailed him.

As Balthier was tied into place behind him—something he was glad for, since Balthier was more than adept at escape—Basch glanced up and down the line. First Ashe, chin held high, and behind her Penelo fighting back fear, trying to stand as tall. Vossler, who looked haggard and half mindless with blood loss; the whole right side of his head was matted with dried red crust, reaching even down to his shoulder. Basch feared for him most. Behind Vossler, and directly in front of Basch, was Riley. Head down, her hair obscured her face entirely. Her shoulders shook with very breath, and an endless growl emanated from deep in her throat. Maybe it was the confinement. She did have a past with it; until now he hadn't thought of how it affected her mind.

But then, a commotion rose towards the front of the line, as the black-haired soldier lifted someone from the stone by the shaggy blonde hair. Basch's teeth ground together and he knew the source of Riley's tumult. For all her noble intentions, her actions yesterday had been rash, childish, and vain. It was Vaan.

Sputtering curses, he was dragged to the back of the line and tied behind Balthier, who stared at him the whole way. The pirate's expression was as close to astonishment as was possible for the composed, indifferent man. Because if Vaan was here, and Riley...then by simple logic, two plus two equals Fran.

His heart jumped with an electric current, a feeling which the pirate was unfortunately growing accustomed to. Because as Vaan and his captor passed, the red-haired soldier followed, holding the white-haired viera in his clutches.

Rage leapt like fire inside him, then died to the surprise it created. Now that, that was interesting. The sight of Fran in chains had not incited such feeling from him before, on the Leviathan. It wasn't under his control. Maybe this was what Basch felt when he looked at Ashelia. It was unsettling: a horrid feeling. What on earth had these people infected him with? He couldn't even respond to Fran's raised eyebrow, her superior, sarcastic stare that asked, "An army or two, correct?"

She was tied behind Vaan. One person away from him, but still too far behind to whisper to. He couldn't even see her now.

No. This wasn't alright anymore.

"Ideas?" he muttered to Basch. But before he could reply, the nearest halfbreed reacted. He struck out, quick as a cat's claw, and silenced the captain with a light (more or less) blow to the head. Balthier didn't try to speak again.

These were smarter by far than any Imperial grunt. A stupid soldier would have struck Balthier, but the fact that he went for Basch revealed a lot. These were the kind that moved to control a situation before it could escalate, rather than display power over an action that had already been put against them. Balthier's eyes narrowed. His stare locked with the soldier, the black-haired pillar that loomed darkly with intelligence. His own eyes met that sharp stare, equaling the challenge in mind, if not in+ body. In front of him, Basch backed him with a seething gaze of his own. As if sensing the contest, the other two halfbreeds slowly filtered in. The woman stood boldly at his side, while the red-haired one stood behind, staring only sidelong.

Balthier's gaze darkened, a stare hot and metallic. This was not acceptable.

.~*~.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, I realize that for such a long wait, this is a disappointment. T_T I'm sorry! I just needed to post it since I've been slacking on writing so much and I need to re-inspire myself. School suddenly decided to throw a bunch of work at me and then, as I tend to do, I randomly lost interest in this fic. But it's back now! I just need a fresh start with a new chapter I think. Which bythe way I have a lot planned for! I'm sick of the Sandsea. I think it's high time they got the heck outta Dodge, don't you? XD

**Lyric headings:** "Be Like That" by Nickleback, "The Truth" by Staind


	15. The Love of Our Pain

** "In my field of paper flowers,  
And candy clouds of lullaby,  
I lie inside myself for hours,  
And watch my purple sky fly over me."**

Not bothering to look ahead, Riley stumbled forward with the prisoner's line. Her tongue was dry, body sore, and her ears ached with her head. It was hot; they were exhausted. But it wasn't time to stop yet. They walked in the early morning and late into the afternoon, with no more than two breaks a day. They would stop next at noon, where Ashe or anyone who had mana would sneak Vossler a healing spell before all the debuffs were renewed. They traveled under a constant spell of Silence and, when the halfbreeds could spare mana, Blindness.

She couldn't find her anger anymore. Not her real anger. All she could manage was that seething growl. She couldn't remember the infuriating feel of restraint, though her binding ropes were so tight that they cut into her skin. She couldn't remember how it felt when Vaan had run faster than her on the bridge, or the tone in Balthier's voice when he had trained her like a dog in the cargo bay. Ferality and instinct had abandoned her. There was only pain that she reveled in, and the one low growl that vibrated constantly in her chest.

This pain was beautiful. She was the victim. She ignored completely thoughts of her stupidity, whether she'd brought this upon herself, and the pain of her companions. She was broken, she was betrayed. It was warm and freezing down here, in the depths of seething injury. She could feel it in her hollow chest. Black and red, like ice on fire. She could live here. If she left this place, this enveloping embrace inside the niche of her wounds, awareness would take away anger's sickeningly sweet comfort.

Noon came. They sheltered under the shade of a cliff face and were fed scraps of dried meat and water. Their captors were more gracious with the water, as they were resting and could afford mana to cast water spells. In Balthier's calculating mind, he figured the female had the most mana, as she did most of the spellcasting. The black-haired soldier had the least. Basch found that the water spells depleted the woman's mana fully, or at least mostly, because she deferred the task over to the red-haired halfbreed after casting four spells. Resting periods. That's when they're weakest magically. However, judging by the muscles that adorned all three (especially the oldest one), that wouldn't be such a great weakness.

Riley ignored the food and water along with the gentle hands that offered it. Allan called her name softly; the voice, so beautifully in pain, sent a spike of pale, bright light into her night-veiled haven. She flinched visibly and ducked her head lower, crawling further inside herself, cowering until the light would fade

Allan sighed, placing the food and water on the ground in front of her. She could feel his pain as his breath washed over her face. Throat tightening, her low growl bucked higher in pitch, thrusting him away.

Allan gave up and rose wearily to his feet. His eyes were drawn by a stare from the scar-faced soldier tied up behind his sister. In it he saw…he wasn't sure. Not accusation. A sharp edge steeled in Allan's eyes. He turned away with an angry exhale through clenched teeth. The sound almost resembled a snarl.

Looking over Riley's head, Basch turned his attention to Vossler. He had gotten worse; he was sprawled out sidelong on the ground. Red tinged the sand beneath his head. Penelo was twisted around, trying to examine the wounds. There wasn't much she could do under Silence, though.

"He needs healing," Basch said to the red-haired halfbreed, who paused before turning back. He glanced at Vossler, and though his expression didn't change, he didn't turn away again.

"He could die by nightfall," Basch snarled, drawing a small sound of distress from Penelo. At the front of the line, Ashe craned her neck around.

Allan glanced toward Basch once more, before turning to his companions. Mostly, he looked towards the older man. Jon's heated gaze narrowed on Basch, not bothering to look toward Vossler. For a moment, the silence was filled only by Riley's steady growl.

"Not our charge to bring him back alive," Jonathan said.

"He'll be much easier to bring back that way." At Danica's voice, Jon snapped his gaze her way. Her eyes afforded the same steel as his. It infuriated him.

"Anyway," she said, walking toward the wounded prisoner. "His blood will attract predators. Better that its sto—"

She was cut off abruptly, suddenly finding an iron grip around her wrist. Thrilled with shock, she looked into Jon's black eyes. A new kind of anger showed in his knitted brow and bared teeth.

"Why is it you always decide the opposite of what I say?"

Quick as a cat's claw, Danica latched onto his wrist and gripped it just as hard.

"Because you think your temper more important than what must be _done_." She jerked on his arm, and he tightened his grip. Their claws cut short lines into each other's flesh. Locking eyes, their intensity increased to match the other, wills of equal strength clashing in the single shared gaze. Their faces drew closer together to keep up the mounting battle, building, waiting for the break…

"Curaga."

Both growls cut off like a severed string. They broke gaze to both stare at Allan crouched beside the wounded man, his glowing hands spread in the air above Vossler's head. He cast again, ignoring the other two's blank, wide-eyed stares. Vossler stirred, a low groan escaping his lungs, though his eyes didn't open.

Allan stood up and nodded toward Jon and Danica as he walked past them.

With a snapping glance toward each other, the two of them snorted, jerked their hands free, and stormed off in opposite directions.

Danica stooped in front of Riley to snatch away the food and water, gulping it down herself. Allan's ear twitched in aggravation, but he said nothing.

"We should clean the both of your ears too," she said to Allan, while glancing down at Riley's blood-soaked bandanna.

Riley did her best not to acknowledge anything, but the voice was so close she had to hear it. She ignored it, at first. But then, in a moment of softer, warmer light…something was said that caught her attention.

"So much blood around will attract bigger things than wolves."

It took a minute to sink in. At first, she ignored it. But as Danica walked away, the words actually stuck inside Riley's mind. Her growl stopped. Eyes cracking open, she raised her head, staring without seeing at all. Surprised by the change, Basch and Penelo glanced at her curiously.

_Bigger things… _Riley's thought echoed. Across her mind flickered a vision: a flash of scales, and monumental weight smashing into the earth.

In this wasteland lived strength that could level mountains, and a nose for wounded prey.

….

**"Violence is an energy,  
Bringin' out the fury.  
Revolt against the order to obey.**

**The insurgency will rise  
When the blood's been sacrificed.  
They'll be blinded by the light in your eyes."**

After they had mobilized once more, she waited a while and walked, passing over dirt floors and sandy terrain, following paths she didn't recognize. Two hours later, they had ascended to rocky ground again. On one side of the path was the face of a cliff, which ended far ahead as the land descended again towards the sandy desert. The very ground here hung over the swirling Sandsea, which was visible every so often at the bottom of giant, gaping holes in the rocky floor. Urutan could be heard but not seen, and every once in a while, one could catch a glimpse of Yensa fins breaking the surface of the sand-filled water.

In the middle of their march through the most uneven ground, Riley's feet stopped. The line still moved, though, pulled by Jonathan's quick pace and strong hand. Basch was forced to trip over her. His weight perfectly unbalanced the rest of the line behind, spilling everyone but Fran, who was last, onto the skin-shredding rocks.

Riley wasted not a second, crouching low, then springing up to launch herself into Vossler's back. It didn't take much force to buckle his weak knees, and as Vossler fell, he took Penelo and Ashe down with him. Riley angled herself perfectly, so when she hit the ground, there was a particularly large rock aligned to smash the side of her head.

Her companion's pained and surprised voices, Jon's angry bellow, Allan's concerned shout—all sounds were overruled by the high-pitched ringing whine that pierced her ears. Her eyes saw bright static, quickly fading into a red-tinged view of the rocky ground and Vossler's back sprawled among the rocks. Something warm flowed down her forehead and touched her cheek. Blood. A spreading pool from Vossler's temple, as well as from her own ears, formed a growing pool on the ground. As the sticky liquid soaked through her hair, lapping at the side of her face, a grin blossomed on Riley's chapped lips.

She must have been out for quite a substantial space of time. Enough blood will have been shed, enough added to that metallic pheromone—the predator's perfume—that had been permeating the air ever since Vossler's skin had first opened. Blood would save her, whether family would or not.

Voices overlapped each other. "What the devil _happened?_"

"…the world'ja do that for! Freakin maniac!"

"Vossler! _Vossler!_"

"You stupid little piece of—!"

"Answer me! Riley!"

"…wait. Shut up, all'a you."

"Why did she even—"

"I said _shut up!_"

The voices went silent, cut off at Jon's command.

"What's that sound?"

Danica followed his gaze, looking out over the rocky crags and mounds of desert, where vision was cut off by sand dunes. A sound like bombshells shook the earth, and above it there rose the mighty snorting roars of the ruler of the sand.

Riley's grin spread, blood seeping past her lips. The taste was awful, like rusted iron, but…sweet. Sickeningly sweet to the animal she caged. Riley's eyelids snapped open wide, revealing amber storms with pupils like hair-thin slits.

.~*~.

**"Do you know the enemy?  
Do ya know your enemy?  
Well, gotta know the enemy—  
Ra-yeah!"**

Riley sprung to her feet, balanced perfectly and crouching low. She couldn't stand completely, as her hands were tied still to Vossler's. So she jerked hard on the ropes, dragging his limp body closer, and closed her jaws around her own hands. Thrashing her head like a dog, she snarled through the pain, shredding her own skin along with the ropes. The taste of blood filled her mouth again, and it was like oil for a fire. She released a shrieking roar, ripping her torn hands free of her the bindings.

Thrilled, unstoppable, vicious as a wildfire. She'd never felt so free.

Her eyes locked on the closest target and she launched herself forward, legs propelling her like a rocket. She slammed into Danica's body, spilling them both onto the ground, and lit into her prey. Shredding anything her claws touched, Riley reveled in the shouts of alarm, of pain, and the helplessness of the flesh beneath her talons.

A sudden, bellowing roar filled her ears, and before she could even look up, a colossal force slammed into her stomach, lifting her off of Danica and sending her flying back to the ground. Skipping over razor-sharp rocks, Riley squirmed and twisted until her feet found the ground. She dug in her heels, claws digging lines into the stone, until she slid to a halt.

Jonathan advanced, barreling towards her with a look of highest rage twisting up his face. She let loose a feline snarl and sprung forward to meet him.

Her claws never even reached his skin. Jonathan's armor deflected every frantic slash and barely sustained a scratch. Her claws, which could hack through cobblestone if she wanted, were useless against a halfbreed's armor. Jonathan ran right over her, sweeping her into the air as if she weighed nothing more than a dishrag. One of his gantlets held her by the neck, while his other arm crushed her waist.

Managing by some miracle to glance backward, Riley saw the target. He meant to smash her into the rock face that rose up behind them.

She flailed viciously, each scream a feral explosion blasted from her chest. In a last-second burst of instinctual fury, she collected her strength, aimed, and lashed at his knees with both feet.

Jonathan's path swerved as his leg buckled, the joint of his left leg snapped backward. The craggy ground tripped him further, sending him ever closer to the edge of one of the many crevices that broke the ground. He staggered, struggling to reign in his momentum, regain control. He should have been struggling to stop.

As Jonathan's balance failed, the world became a tumult of battle in weightlessness. He pulled her down, hand still clasped around her neck, and her claws scratched at his arm in a futile ecstasy of panic. She couldn't even find the ground that should have stopped their fall by now. The sky and their own battle enveloped the two, as they fell away from everything else.

Allan's eyes watched, frozen in horror, as Jonathan took Riley through the wide crevice that split the ground. Jonathan's hand lifted her higher even as they fell, his gauntlet flashing back a spark of sunlight, then disappeared beneath the lip of the hole. The last thing to vanish was Riley's face and fiery hair.

Then they both were gone.

….

**"And if you go,  
I want to go with you.  
And if you die,  
I want to die with you.  
Take your hand and walk away."**

His mind was so frozen, no thought could enter. Danica was screaming, sometimes at him. The bestial roaring grew louder, and the prisoners tried desperately to be free of their bonds. But for Allan, the world contained only this gaping hole in front of him. There was nothing there that even suggested they had fallen.

But he remembered it. It had happened…It had finally happened. His sister. His brother. Dead, the both of them.

Allan choked and staggered aside, clutching his chest as if wounded. He gasped for breath, forcing air through his tightening throat. Shock numbed his senses, but pain drove spikes through his lungs. He felt light and hollow; his chest was an echoing cave. His body trembled, drained of all strength. Allan fell to his knees on the blood-streaked stone.

It was all for nothing.

"_Allan!"_ Danica shrieked again, glancing between him and the monster that had appeared, lumbering towards them. It was at the base of the incline that linked the sand and the rocky overhang. With every shuddering step it took, rocks crumbled loose from the ground and went tumbling toward the waves below. New cracks snaked along the ground, the crevices growing wider.

She jerked her weapons free, though she knew there was no hope of fighting it. She caught sight of the prisoners, and a split-second idea crossed her mind. It was the only choice. Danica sheathed one dagger, keeping out the serrated one, and gripped it tightly as she ran towards the strongest of the prisoners. She hacked frantically at the ropes binding Basch's hands as he struggled to work his wrists free.

His fist pounded the ground, teeth clenched, as his body shuddered uncontrollably. Tears poured down his face, mixing with the blood flowing from his ears. He cried out brokenly, writhing in useless anguished. The sobs grew strangled, quiet as he struggled for at least one—just _one_ _breath_. Then, at once, it all rushed in upon him: a single, agonized explosion.

Allan threw back his head and screamed to an empty world.

"Your weapons!" Danica shouted over the Saurian's roars. Her dagger slashed open the bag that Jonathan had carried, spilling out the prisoners' weapons. Swords, daggers, gun, and bow were snatched up like gold from a gutter.

He couldn't accept it. It wasn't true. There was still some way he could stop it. If he could only _move!_ Falling into the Sandsea didn't _have_ to be death. Jonathan was more than a match for Urutan…or at least, he was for a time…against an army, though? And in the Sandsea? In there, the monsters were at their finest.

No—not Jon. For at least a few moments, Jonathan would hold out. It wasn't done. It wasn't over.

Until he saw lifeless eyes, or gripped a cold-skinned hand, they were not dead.

He could save them, or die at their side. There was no other course for his life.

Allan's teeth ground together as he released a primal snarl, his wild eyes locked on the crevice. He sprung forward, scrambling to his feet. He sprinted straight for the hole, and without hesitation, plummeted over the edge.

….

In the swirling waters alone, he could have easily kept his grip around her throat—but the Urutan demanded his full attention. Battered on all sides, rammed by Yensa, he was hacked at by crude blades from the fish-riders. Now it was Riley who held onto him.

For as long as he could, he fought one-handed, clutching the girl's neck, too preoccupied to do more than keep her anchored to him. He thrashed like a wildman, striking out at anything that moved past, always moving too late—too slow. The Yensa darted about like flies, churning up the sand and water like a bubbling storm.

As one Yensa fish sank its teeth into his arm, Jon cried out, and his fingers lost their grip. Riley was swept away under the tumultuous waves.

"_No!"_ He snarled furiously, searching the roaring waters. Another few glancing sword's blows stole his attention. The fish surrounded him. Each attack on the heels of another. Growling like a cornered dog, Jon thrust his arm free of waters. The daggers on his gauntlets flicked into readiness. Blood soon stained the watery sand.

Before long, his every muscle screaming, Jon's body began to give out. His head bobbed under the surface and back up. A spear was driven into his shoulder, driving straight through his armor. Clutching at the weapon, Jonathan gritted his teeth in misery as the Urutan tried to force him below the surface.

On the fringes of this world of chaos, he heard a bellowing howl split the air.

The strength left Jonathan's arms. Head sinking below the waves, he closed his eyes, savoring the last sound of his brother's voice.

No sound would ever be sweeter to his forever-deafened ears.

"...Firaga!"

A red and orange glow permeated his eyelids. Beneath the water and sand, he couldn't open his eyes, but he felt the warmth radiate from just above the surface. Moments later, a jolt of pain erupted in his shoulder, as the spear was jerked away. Jon's hand, still clasped around the handle, broke the distant surface. Through the cold metal gauntlet, he felt the grip of a stronger hand.

When his head finally came free of the dragging waves, Jon and hacked and gasped for air. The arm had pulled him toward something stable, and he clutched to it for his life. Still coughing and sputtering, he was dragged onto the bobbing craft. Firaga was cast again. A torrent of fire swirled in circles around them. Urutan screams rent the air. Raising his head, Jon caught sight of Yensa and Urutan being devoured.

"Allan…" he croaked, trying to rise. The act nearly made him slip off the craft, and he clutched to it desperately. What kind of boat was this, anyway?

Looking down, Jonathan saw orange scales beneath his hands. His eyes grew wide.

"Allan!" His brother's only reply was another fire spell. Jon laughed in breathless amazement. "You hijacked a fish…"

"Get _on_," Allan snapped, pulling him higher onto the fish's back. With his help, Jon managed to get into the saddle behind him.

"You're alright?"

"Yeah," Jon answered immediately, grinning as he clapped his brother on the shoulder.

Allan's profound, deep sigh was barely audible. His hands, gripping the edge of the Yensa's strange saddle, began to slide away. "Good…" he muttered. It was only now that Jon noticed the weariness in his voice. "Jon," he begged, voice hoarse and breathless.

"...Al?"

"Find...Riley..."

He had no sooner spoken than Allan tipped sideways, sliding off the fish's scales. Jon's hands shot out to grab him, but the Yensa was its master's beast, and began to buck and thrash without the control of its unwanted rider.

"No! Al come on!" Jon's gauntlets, bulky and metallic and slick from the water, couldn't hold on. "Hang on you idiot! Just...h-hold...!"

Sprays of sand and foam blasted the world into confusion, and lungfuls of the Sandsea strangled his throat. The fish thrashed uncontrollably, rolling in complete circles, throwing them repeatedly below and above the water. Allan's arm was slipping from his fist. Though Jonathan held on as tightly as he could, though he cried out in desperate fury, Allan was washed away.

"_AL!_"

The waters closed once more over his head, sweeping him away from the world.

.~**~.

**"What's happened to you? It's obvious you've changed.  
Something deep inside you is probably to blame.  
Even though you got there, what does your conscience tell you now?  
Must be lonely up there with your head in the clouds."**

Arms flailing desperately, she thrashed against the current, every movement pulling her forward—but immediately dragging her back down. The tributary, filled with sand-tinted water that would run into the Sandsea, sucked like a great muddy soup as it dragged down her arms and legs. Riley's hands clawed at the water, just barely pushing her face an inch above water, long enough for her to suck in another breath before she went back down. Her limbs slowly seemed to be turning into led. There was sand in her eyes, her mouth, her ears…surely the sea wasn't this far across…surely the shore was closer!

Finally, as her arm slashed through the murky half-liquid water, it met with a more solid form of sand.

Blinded and choking, Riley clawed her way up the bank, relishing the taste of air. She collapsed on dry land, panting. She spit out the sand in her mouth, but it was still stuck to her tongue and grated inside her throat. Her ears had gone underwater; they were filled with sand again. That would kill later. Infection for sure.

…She'd lost her dagger. Basch had given her that. The blade that made her invincible was now sinking somewhere beneath the currents of the Sandsea.

Finally, after getting a little of her breath back, she shook the dripping strings of hair from her face and looked around. Cliff walls rose cruelly on all sides of the cave-like valley. Far above, there was a long crack in the rocky ceiling. Through it she saw a flash of movement as someone ran past, but it was so quick she couldn't even make out who. Had that been Balthier's leather vest or a flash of Saurian scales? Oh, Dalmascan lights…what had she doomed them to now…?

As she struggled to her feet, she was completely oblivious of the fact that she wasn't alone.

Jonathan's dagger-lined boots thumped over the sand, crunched through rocky patches. He lumbered towards her, shoulders sagging, back arched with weariness, as if all his remaining energy was being pumped to fuel the savage grief in his eyes. A dark growl blended with soft laughter as he advanced.

This was what finally alerted Riley to his presence. She spun around, claws brandished, bearing her teeth. Just like he'd thought, her ferocity didn't hold. As the ragged and vicious sight of him hit her fully, Riley succumbed to shock and terror.

"Your cowardice has not left you," Jonathan's voice rasped.

Turning circles, Riley searched frantically for someone else—anyone at all, even the Urutan-Yensa. There was no one. There was only the tower of her half-brother, casting an ecliptic shadow over the entire area. There was a wretched kind smile on his lips, and his eyes burned accusing.

Riley's ears dropped flat against her head as she backed away. A whimper escaped without her consent, and she immediately bit it back with anger. The sound seemed to enrage Jonathan even more, though. The smile was gone, replaced with a ferocious scowl that came completely out of the wide random blue.

Her back hit the wall. There was no room to run.

"Why? It can't save you."

Riley's breath came short and frantic. "Say it straight, brother," she managed to spit out, but then cursed her voice for sounding like a squeaking rat.

In a moment of silence, Jonathan's eyes filled again with more fire and rage than she'd ever seen. It mounted to a pinnacle, and Riley closed her eyes. A sudden burst of anger came upon her, and in what would be her final defiance, a roaring scream was torn from her lips.

Nothing happened. Finally, after eternal seconds of silence, Riley dared open her eyes. Jonathan was standing as if frozen, his eyes blank and cold as stone. Riley panted with heated breath, her claws gripping tighter to the rocky wall behind her. Finally, Jonathan reacted. He jerked his wrists upward in a short motion, causing the daggers embedded in his glove to retract.

Riley's distrust remained, but now it was hampered by confusion.

"It's always you…" Jonathan murmured. His head was bowed, so that she couldn't clearly see his face. "You're hardly worth all this."

His voice was like pale ashes in a cold hearth, when the winter night outside is moonless.

He raised his head to meet her eyes, and she finally read what she'd seen in the shuttlecraft at the Imperial fleet. Longing. Bitterness, pain. Sorrow. Anger—so much anger.

"I knew he would follow you."

Riley took in a halting breath, her eyes stinging hotly. Such desperate brokenness in his voice, and such grief… As she watched, the clouds began to return, covering over the torrent of lightning and fire within. He was the shadow again, his voice quiet and rumbling once again. Now it was like the distant roll of thunder.

"He always wanted to follow you to death."

And all was blasted away, as if everything inside her had been plunged into ice water. It was all she could do to shove her breath forward into something resembling a voice. "A…All'n…"

"_He did everything for you!"_ He roared, the rage returning like a torrent. He stepped forward again, and in half an instant he was right next to her, his silver fist tangled in the front of her shirt. Her claws scratched frantically at his arm. "Every year, every month, all the minutes of the day and night it's you. You're with him all the nights he cannot sleep. You're the blood in his ears."

He suddenly slung her to the ground, her painful yelp only fueling his rage. He stepped towards her locking sight with her terrified eyes. "It's all about you, Riley, isn't it always?" He took another step forward. "Everything that's wrong with us is_ your fault!"_ On the last words, he whipped his wrists out one by one, and his gauntlets bore their silver fangs.

Riley scrambled away, thrashing through the sand, as Jonathan advanced on her, fist raised. Her eyes widened slowly. For an instant, her deepest instinct screamed for her to run, to stop what was coming, to _die_ before she would hear it…

"_You_ _killed Allan!"_

A feral scream rent the air, joining with Jon's bellowing roar. As if from thin air, Riley's eyes appeared inches from his own. Her pupils had shrunk into vertical slits the width of a penmark. Her eyes burned as his burned.

** "Back off—I'll take you on.  
Headstrong, I'll take on anyone.  
I know that you are wrong and this is not  
Where you belong."**

The question of which one had thrown the first blow was quickly tossed aside. As instincts and rage erupted, all that seems to exist in either's world was the other, and the need to fight. The sounds echoed and scaled the crevice walls to the rock shelf above, echoing in ears of halfbreed and hume as the sound of ravenous dogs in the process of devouring each other. To the ears of their comrades, the noise was lost quickly to the sound of the Saurian's rage. The dogs were alone in their arena as in their feral minds.

Pain lived only on the fringes of her mind. It was a mindless tumult of thrashing and vicious barking snarls. Swinging from his neck and shoulders, her back feet kicked ferociously at anything in range. Jonathan spun and staggered, his clawed gauntlets whipping across as he attempted to pry her off. Lines of red drew themselves across her arms, her face, her shoulders.

At some point he managed to throw her off, but as soon as she landed, Riley's legs twisted underneath her and launched her back up and into his vicious embrace. Jonathan howled with pain and renewed fury as her claws tore back the skin of his forehead like a canvass tent flap.

His hand somehow had latched onto her throat, but she still hung onto him. Inexplicably, Jonathan began to jog, then sprint, holding her out in front of him as she kicked and yowled like a she-cat.

Riley's teeth rattled as she was smashed against something solid and jagged. Rocks, maybe. One of her own canines cut into her lip and the metallic taste of blood bloomed across her tongue. Suddenly she couldn't reach to claw at him anymore; she was pinned by the neck to the cliff-face wall of the valley. Jonathan's heated smirk rejoiced with triumph and outrage at his arm's length.

In the small pause that followed, a grimacing smile of red-coated teeth spit her lips. Her feet found the rock wall behind her, and with both hands she latched onto Jon's wrist.

Before he could react, Riley sprung upwards and away from the cliff with all the force and momentum of a speeding aircraft. She sailed right over his head and his arm went with her. Before he knew it, his feet were lifting from the ground, taking away his last chance at jerking her back to the ground.

He was flying, then, sent through the air in a wide arc, as Riley landed and acted as his anchor. In the next instant, he was slammed down amongst a pile of boulders. Across his vision, red sparks erupted, and fire and lightning danced along his spine. Then there came blackness. It spread over him like ink, filling mind and body. It chased away pain, defeat, and all his rage.

His rage….being stolen…

The contrast of silence assaulted her ears. The only thing Riley could hear was her own panting. Her enemy was unmoving. She couldn't see his face as it was half-buried in shattered rock.

She released Jon's arm, which fell limply to the debris he lay in. Her legs folded and unfolded slowly like spider limbs, carrying her back and away. Her eyes never once left his body.

Riley's ear twitched at the sound of movement.

Slowly, Jonathan's arm dragged across the ground, pulling back towards his body. But it stopped when his fingers met a large broken piece of rock. Frozen in her ready crouch, Riley flicked her eyes from his head to his arm, paper-thin pupils darting back and forth across the wild, white expanse of her eyes. Suddenly, Jonathan's fingers clenched the loose rubble under his hand.

With a catlike shriek, she ducked aside as the rock came soaring in at her head. She barely had two seconds before another came, then more, as Jonathan, on his steady feet once more, hurled missile after missile, arms pumping as his broken ribs crackled.

She threw herself left, then jumped, and directly after had to drop completely down, holding herself inches from the ground with her fingertips. There, she hit a snag in momentum, as her feet had finally slipped out from under her. His razor-sharp eyes widened in glee. He seized the extra two seconds and put them to good use, grasping the largest rock he found and hoisting it over his head. Roughly, it was the size of a Wild Saurian's foot.

Riley hadn't expected he could throw it so fast. The rock sailed in as if shot from a cannon, and she'd only had time to get herself into a kneeling position.

Instinct alone had her ducking left, twisting and folding her body so low over her leg that her chin was within three inches from the ground. And if the boulder hadn't been spinning, she might have escaped it completely.

A chunk of the rock swung around to clip her shoulder, just barely missing her head. Even so, the impact was enough to send her snapping backwards, tossed helplessly as a rag doll. She skidded along the sand, grinding and tearing up the terrain. Finally, she hit the cliff-face and stopped, half-buried in a pile of dirt and sand. A ten-foot trail marked her path through the sand.

Footsteps stalked towards her, punctuating a hungry, wavering growl.

The sound was enough. Shaking, falling down and rising again, Riley struggled and staggered upright until her feet would hold the ground. By the time she did, Jon had closed half the distance. Panting, she stared at her advancing enemy, every instinct screaming at her body to move.

A cord inside her, pulled too tight and stretched too far, snapped.

Releasing a ragged cry, a scream to surpass any sound she'd ever made, Riley dove forward.

She shoved herself off the wall and into a straight charge, causing Jonathan to break into a run, raising his own scream. The distance closed in seconds. Jon lunged forward to impale her on his gauntlets and Riley soared at him in a flying tackle, claws leading.

The two dogs collided. Once more there was only mindless thrashing of limbs, claws, and blades.

Her claws scraped against his armor, working their way into any crevice. She managed to rip a shoulder-guard free and cut through one of the straps on his breastplate before being thrown aside once more, torn free of her perch.

She dropped to the ground with legs folded spider-like underneath her and launched back up, claws leading. But Jon had already dove forward.

He fell upon her entirely, crushing her mid-air spring. She folded under the hundreds of pounds of body weight and armor. And strategy again disappeared, lost in a spinning turmoil as the two of them kicked up clouds of sand and blood. Then, hardly noticing, they reached a short incline in the land and slowly began to roll.

**"It's never the same on the way down.  
How does it feel when your feet finally hit the ground?  
When all your bridges have burned down,  
And the sandcastles you built are falling down…"**

They rolled down the embankment locked in their brawl, crashing through rocks and sand and dead, thorny bushes, until finally they came to the bottom. Riley let loose a desperate, raging, completely human shriek, and with one monumental shove, she used the last of their momentum to slam Jonathan's three-hundred pound frame to the ground.

"I was only gone!"

There was silence. No sound intruded but the ragged breath of the two halfbreeds. The two locked eyes, hers determined, his angry—but, for once, Jon's stare was dampened by confusion.

Riley's hair flew wildly as she kneeled above him, pinning him down by his neck. Blood and sand covered nearly every inch of her. Jonathan had his armor, but his breastplate at some point had been lost, so gashes now covered his chest. His face was marked, too, one eye completely shut due to the river of blood from the slice on his forehead. Blood soaked the fur of his ear from the chip she'd apparently bitten out of it.

He gripped Riley's wrist and tried to pull, but she jerked her hand viciously, claws sinking half an inch into the flesh of his throat. Though his fingers still gripped her arm, he didn't try to pull it free again.

"What?" he growled, seeing that to speak was the only option.

"I was only gone. I never interfered, I never looked for you—I never did anything! I hid and you couldn't possibly know where—my cowardice was only mine! How did bring him that much pain, when all I did was _stay away!_"

Jonathan could only stare. For a long moment, neither moved or said anything more. Then he suddenly flinched, feeling something wet drop onto his face, followed by another. Riley's tears were joined by several more, cutting clean streaks through the blood and dirt on his face. The sight of her like that, battle-fresh, dripping blood and tears of pain so great it turned to desperate rage, was unlike any he'd ever expected to see. Not from her—not from the coward, the traitor, the rat. Not from her…

"When halfbreeds escape, they are executed if caught," he muttered, his voice hoarse. His face was a statue of cracked stone. "They chop off their ears and stick 'em on spikes above the entrance to the barracks at the farm. Every time we saw a red pair…you came back."

Jonathan sat up, easily throwing her aside and onto the ground. He rubbed his eye clear of blood, then he reached up and gently touched his ear. He pulled back his hand to examine the redness on his fingers. "Allan died with you every time." His fist clenched, trembling with the force. His eyes squeezed shut. "You were supposed to come back...!"

Face-down, wild strings of hair thrown haphazardly into her grime-streaked face, Riley could only stare ahead with tear-pouring eyes—no longer the blind eyes of an animal, but as normal as a hume's. Her claws tore at the soft sand as they curled into fists. That wasn't all. It wasn't only the ears, or the worry for her life. That was an example of everything else. What she'd really done was abandon him. All of them. She understood now... She'd been meant to save them.

Her voice was a desperate whisper: "I didn't know..."

She didn't look up at the sound of shifting metal, or even the sound of footsteps beside her head. She stared at the sand in front of her face, yet saw not one grain. Metal against metal clicked into place: the sound of Jon's daggers.

"Look for him."

Arm drawn back, Jon stopped, halted in place as he stared down at her.

"He can't be…" she whispered, voice hitching with sobs that broke through the ice of numbness. "He's not…"

Footsteps again. Boots crossed in front of her vision, the toes dragging across the ground, their silver shine covered under trails of thick red slime. They were walking away. With every step he took, drops of her blood flew from the spikes on his boots.

.~*~.

**A/N:** Ahaha...ohhkaaaay, so this was long. Magga cammara though it was so fast. Granted I already had Riley and Jon's fight written out, but the rest I typed over the span of two days. Shewf. I feel like I need a cigarette after that.

Jk. I don't smoke.

Anyway I know I didn't write much with the OCs but I promise I will soon. Look forward to more piratey antics in the future.

**Lyric headings:** "Imaginary" by Evanescence, "Know Your Enemy" by Green Day, "Lonely Day" by System of a Down, "Falling Down" by Staind, and "Headstrong" by...um...*Googles it* oh yeah Trapt.


	16. Partially Indestructible

"…**Bet you thought this gigantic dinosaur was alive.  
Nope.  
Chuck Testa."**

The very last falling pebbles struck a clicking chorus as they tumbled down the aftermath of the rockslide. Bouncing down piles of shattered rock, they drew little trails in the soft sand below, some continuing on to sink in the Sandsea with soft plopping sounds. Other than that and the settling dust, nothing moved among the gigantic pile of rubble. Sticking out from the rocks was a tree-thick tail armored in scales, jutting into the air and then falling in a limp arc to the ground. It was motionless.

Dust settled. Not a sound was heard, though mighty roars still seemed to echo through the air. Nothing yet moved.

The broken shelf of ground that protruded over the shore had proved a meager support for the Saurian's colossal weight. It was the only thing that had kept him from his prey. Until the end, there had been nothing but the smell of weak blood in his puffing nostrils. He was not king of _all_ this land, it seemed. By whatever means, his prey had been stolen by the very ground he had ruled. His prey might have won.

But no twig-like limb or fragile bone yet moved among the rubble.

….

"**Don't know what you're up against?  
Maybe you should reconsider.**

**You can push me out the window,**  
**I'll just get back up.**  
**You can hang me like a slave,**  
**I'll go underground.**  
**Can't keep me down,**

**You can't keep me down."**

After many long moments of strained, unbearable stillness, one tiny rock shifted. It spilled down the giant mound and buried itself in the sand. All was quiet for many more minutes, until finally another, bigger rock was sent downwards. In one small spot, rocks were being slowly pushed from below.

A muffled, but mighty grunt came from the widening cracks between the rocks, then a pair of shoulders appeared. Rocks rolled off his back as he shoved himself free, every bone, muscle, and sinew protesting. On his knees, Basch leaned against the rocks, one hand held to his temple. His fingers discovered blood. A rock must've caught his head at one point. All the same, he counted himself lucky.

Basch raised his head, ignoring the migraine he was developing. He could see nothing but piles of rocks. Not for the first time, his chest tightened with panic. Had no one else made it…?

Twisting is legs free of the rocks, Basch staggered down the mountain of debris, hindered by what he was sure was a broken ankle.

When he pulled on the slab of rock, he found his right arm was surely fractured. Basch winced and kept going, trying to keep most of the strain on his left. Finally, he was able to slide it aside by rolling it over the smaller rocks underneath. Under that layer of lesser debris, he found brown and gold leather.

Basch tossed aside the bigger rocks and grasped the pirate by the shoulder, pulling him as gently as he could from the debris. He stopped abruptly when Balthier's blank face suddenly filled with pain and he released a broken shout.

"Are you alright?" Basch questioned, with no answer. Balthier slumped over, his arms barely supporting him. His legs were still pinned under the rocks.

As he moved to help, Basch noticed something other than rocks beneath Balthier. Fran lay unconscious, but as far as he could tell, uninjured.

"Balthier," he mumbled. "Did you…"

"I have had…better days, I wager," the pirate finally answered, as if Basch's first question was his only.

"Hold on," he started, again making as if to help.

"Oh clear off," Balthier groaned. He was already working himself free of the rubble. "Shouldn't you be concerned with finding your liege?"

Basch felt the cold chill of panic seize him once more. He whirled away and practically flew over the rubble—but not before turning back to Balthier for a moment. He nodded towards Fran. "I would that I had done as much," he said, then turned and was gone.

Balthier hung his head and growled an aggravated sigh, which seemed to get caught on a broken rib before it could leave his lungs.

A weak and gentle exhale, a sound of pain, penetrated the deafness that pervaded her mind. Her speckled ears twitched as she struggled to form a conscious thought—something to latch onto, to be aware of. …Heat. She was aware of the warmth of another body radiating from somewhere close above her. Another sound, this time louder—more pain etched into the voice. The voice brought to her memory a familiar face.

Fran's eyes opened, faded into vision. With the face came a name. _Ffamran._

"Ah…Will you look at that?" the breathless voice croaked. "I've found a pair of rubies in this rubble."

He was hovering over her, hands braced on the rocks beneath her shoulders. "Balthier," Fran mumbled, her "rubies" fixated on his cut and bleeding face.

"When last I checked." His attempts at being clever were far more alarming than comforting with so much pain showing in his voice. He grunted and shifted once more, grimacing with effort as he tried to rise. It was then that Fran realized where they both were.

"Fool of a hume!" she whispered, glaring daggers into his pain-filled face.

Balthier only shoved himself upwards and back, finally breaking free of the rubble. He grunted with pain and effort as he staggered to his feet, nearly tumbling backwards down the rock pile. With balance regained, he held out a hand to Fran. She swatted it aside and lifted herself out of the rocks as well. She'd lost her helmet somewhere in the fall, so that her hair hung freely down her back—but that was all. Thanks to that fool, nothing pained her aside from bruised limbs. But she could tell just from looking that more than one of his ribs was snapped.

Balthier turned and started to pick his way down, but as soon as he took one jarred step, he growled through his teeth and fell to one knee, an arm wrapped around his torso. His body shook with coughs that rattled his broken ribcage. Fran's lip twitched with a scornful "tsk."

"Cease your fluttering," she snapped, kneeling next to him. She held one of his arms around her shoulders and put her arm around his waist to lift him. She half-carried him down the rocks with jolting steps. He was not quiet about it. She was glad. It served him right. And yet, his groanings fell harsh on her ears.

Fran deposited him on the ground, forcing him to rest against a larger boulder—which was apparently painful. He sucked in through his teeth, breath catching painfully. He was forced to grit his teeth and wait until his lungs decided to cooperate again.

Fran went for the buckles to undo his vest. She swatted away his hands when they got in the way.

"Now—now hold on, what are you…"

She tugged one of the straps free roughly, revealing the vest's underside. It was lined with scale-like links of iron. Armor and fashion both; Balthier was not one to settle for giving up anything. "I am looking," Fran returned tersely.

"_Agh!_ At _what_?"

"How badly you have broken yourself." She jerked the vest free of his torso, drawing from him a harsh gasp.

"Ah—_easy_!" he wheezed, grimacing to the sky. "Ta-take it easy, I _beg_ you…"

"Even through the mail," the viera fumed quietly, glaring at the bright red blotches that stained his white linen shirt. "I will not be cleaning this."

"Bollocks…have you any idea how much this cost?"

Fran stood and turned away. With no mana and her satchel lost in the rocks, there was nothing she could do about him yet. She took a few slow steps forward, her sore legs complaining viciously. Her right one felt fractured; she hoped fervently against it.

The rubble was so dense that she had no idea at first where to begin; how could she tell where any of them were buried? But then, the sun caught a glimmer off something among the rocks. She recognized a Dalmascan armor-sandal.

Behind her, she heard Balthier exhale sharply. She couldn't be sure if it was a sound of pain—or concern.

"Stay put," she snapped, eyes flickering his way.

With a small shake of his head, Balthier pulled a face and shrugged, as if the order was ridiculously unnecessary. Fran's glare lingered on him a second longer before turning back to the rocks.

Balthier's scowl returned and deepened, eyes fixed on the gleam of metal.

Fran pulled at the rocks where she supposed his head would be. Rather than lifting them, she could just manage to tip them over enough that they fell down the pile. She was lucky he was close to the top. Soon, she uncovered most of Vaan's head and shoulders. But, unlike she'd expected, he wasn't tangled up in the debris—more like just buried. After moving a few more rocks, she found out why. Fran's eyes widened at the sight.

Vaan and Penelo were curled around each other in a tight ball, his arms wrapped like a vice around her shoulders. The young girl stirred, eyes slowly opening. She saw Vaan's face and gasped, horrified.

"Vaan!" Her voice fell on deaf ears.

"Give me your hand," Fran demanded, drawing her attention away.

Penelo looked to her with terrified eyes. "Fran?" Her hand reached out and was clasped by the viera's graceful fingers.

With Fran's help, she freed herself and Vaan from the rocks. They carried Vaan between them and laid him on softer ground. Penelo trembled when she saw stains of red.

"Penelo," Fran's voice demanded her attention, anchoring her to her senses. "Have you mana left?"

"A…a little, maybe…"

"Enough for Curaga?"

"Um…no, just Cure."

Fran indicated Vaan, and after a moment, Penelo nodded, her numb hands lifted over his chest. After what seemed like years, the green glow finally began to illuminate her hands. Penelo could have cried with relief and terror both at once, had not Fran's steady presence been there to keep her strong.

"Cure," her shaking voice whispered. The light began to spread over Vaan's body. Penelo heard a crackling sound and tried to block it out, but soon her vision became watery.

She felt a graceful hand, clawed, laid gently between her shoulders. Penelo breathed deeply, closing her eyes, and the tears began to recede like the tide leaving the shore. Not that things were any less crazy. She couldn't even believe what was happening since it happened so fast. She did know that she was furious at Vaan. Not just him, at the whole situation. She was helpless again. But…not completely. She had enough mana for Cure. She had her own hands, unbroken and able to cast. Thank all light and goodness; she had Fran.

One more tear fell, sweeping quickly over her set jaw. Penelo determined that it would be the last—until she no longer needed to be strong. They were getting through this. They had gotten through so much already.

Penelo was floored at the sudden realization of all they had escaped. They all must be some spectacular kind of lucky.

'Maybe we just refuse to die.'

….

"**Hey, hey girl, are you ready for today?  
You got your shield and sword?  
Cause it's time to play the games.  
Even though you're not for sure.**

**And I'm not gonna break."**

"Majesty!" he called again, voice rising over the sound of falling rocks. He flung sheer boulders down the slope, digging through with bleeding hands. There was no indication of where to search; no sign that she still existed.

Another few rocks tumbled down the pile, revealing nothing once again. Basch paused to catch his breath, panting as he scanned the rocks. At this point, he could only try to find the tiniest clue to tell him where to look.

"Lady Ashe…!" his cracked voice called, underlain with desperation.

A call answered from not far away. "Here!"

Basch leapt to his feet and scrambled over the rocks, limbs protesting with ignored pain. As he came over the rise of the rockslide, immediately he knew the cause for the alarm in Ashe's voice. Basch slid down the rocks to get to her, tearing his skin to tatters. Staggering to balance, he thundered over the sand and slid to a stop in front of Ashe, directly between her and the halfbreed woman.

For a moment, they faced each other, breathless and bleeding equally. Ashe dropped to the ground beside Vossler, who was lying half-conscious with many wounds, a shard of jagged rock embedded in his thigh. Pebbles and fresh blood were in his hair.

"Basch," the fallen soldier croaked, cut off by violent coughing. Ashelia restrained him as he struggled to rise. "M-my Lady…let me _go!_"

"Be still, Vossler, _please_…" Ashe wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him back to the ground. Though she tried her best to be gentle, he gasped with renewed pain. In a way, though, it was good, because he stopped struggling. He only lay there with eyes half-lidded, breath rasping in and out. Ashe pulled his head onto her lap, staining her fingers bright red.

"Basch!" Ashelia commanded in a voice laced with desperation.

_Protect us._

Stepping forward, the captain sheltered them both, arms held ready with fists clenched. His eyes seemed made of steel. He faced his armed opponent with an equal—indeed a greater threat. "Yes, Majesty."

The halfbreed's eyes were unrelenting. She brandished her serrated dagger only, whole body shuddering. One of her arms hung limp, twisted at an unnatural angle. White marrow gleamed from beneath her skin. She said nothing, only stared at him. She panted heavily, letting her blood fall to the sand.

"There is no point to fighting now," Basch rumbled, voice hoarse but steady. She didn't answer.

"Put it down. Tend to your wounds."

The woman kept her feral silence.

Basch's eyes narrowed, teeth ground together. The woman took a step forward, then another, quicker. Suddenly, it seemed as if she vanished, and reappeared before him with dagger held high.

Basch swatted the weapon away. The woman released a feral snarl as he grasped her by the back of the neck, his fingers nearly enclosing her throat. Basch lifted his voice to a booming command. "Fall back! You have lost!"

Danica's eyes shot open wide. A snarling hiss escaped her teeth, low and dragging: "No…"

Before Basch could react, pain erupted like an explosion against the side of his head. Ashelia screamed. Kneeling, Basch tried to shake free of the dizziness in his muddled mind. Somewhere very close, the woman growled, cat-like. He received a kick to the ribs, a blow carrying more power than he ever would have thought the woman could deliver. He could hear every single snap of bone as he was lifted from the ground and thrown backwards to the sand.

When he awoke again, it must have been mere minutes later. The blackness cleared slowly from his eyes to reveal Ashe sitting over him. He tried to rise and only managed it with her help.

"H…how…"

"You reacted at the last minute… you tripped her, and then I could attack. She fled to avoid defeat. She will be back, she claims. But I have doubts that she'll last that long."

Basch closed his eyes, running a hand along his face. His head still throbbed. Basch touched a hand to his ribs and was greeted with stinging agony. Involuntarily, he gasped—it sent him into a fit of coughing. Blood stained his lips when it had passed.

Ashe found that her hand had moved to his shoulder. "Are you—"

"Vossler," he muttered hoarsely, wiping the blood away. This time, Ashe didn't answer.

Basch opened his eyes and followed her gaze to where the dark-haired soldier lay. Basch groaned, wincing at the sight of his friend. He reached out to shake his shoulder, but thought better of it. Not with those head injuries.

"I did what I could..." Ashelia whispered.

"And what I could not," Basch returned. "My Lady is ever strong."

Ashelia trembled, but did not cry, did not cover her face with her hands. She couldn't show any weakness. Not in front of Basch.

"This was because of my failure." Basch's eyes were on Vossler. "Majesty, I am sorry."

Ashe only stared at the ground, wishing she didn't care.

"Let's rejoin the others," she mumbled quietly. "I want to be done with this place."

.~**~.

She dreamed of a craft set adrift on golden waves. It was nothing more than a few planks of wood at first—then, as the vision solidified, it was a lumped, unmoving form wrapped in soaking rags. It struggled along the surface half-submerged. Many other shapes floated around it. Silver hands clung to the folds of fabric.

It was daylight, but shaded, as if a colossal weight hung always over the sky. The light was grievously allowed and grudgingly given, reflected off the shining hands in dark specks. Hopeless, they began to slacken and slip from their hold on the craft. Falling down—the empty world left in the recesses above.

It wasn't a fair place anyway.

Just before the fingers lost their grip, they stopped. From under the waves rose the gloomy light of rage.

A warmth like a cloak of fire spread over her body, washing the vision away just as the silver hands tightened into fists.

"**God save us every one;  
We're a broken people living under loaded gun.  
And it can't be outfought, it can't be outdone  
It can't be outmatched, it can't be outrun."**

The sound of breaking glass slipped into her muffled hearing. The sound repeated itself a few more times, drawing her away from the temptation of sleep. Her eyes wouldn't open more than a sliver and immediately shut back once she'd managed even that much. The sound of a groan was incredibly close…oh—that was _her_ voice. Riley squeezed her eyes shut against another wave of warmth. She felt warm liquid spilling across her torso, and pain that she hadn't been aware of began to recede.

A voice spoke, warm and gentle, the deep tones of a man. However, her foggy brain hadn't quite reached the mental capacity for language comprehension. She couldn't be expected to reply anyway. She wanted to sleep. But something at the back of her mind told her that important things were going on out there. There was something she was supposed to find out, possibly. Something about…the shaking of the ground…and a captive line of shuffling feet. Dal…tier…

'It's _Balthier_,' intoned a far-off golden voice.

Riley felt arms slip around her shoulders and under her knees, lifting her up. The heat of another body enveloped her, and her head came to rest on his strong, broad chest. She knew just one person with that kind of build. Riley would have cried of joy, had she been a bit more than a vegetable at the moment. Her eyelids cracked open a fraction of an inch, but her eyes were stung with blurry light and shut immediately.

The gentle arms pulled her closer as he began to walk. "Riley," a voice breathed, so gentle that it was almost a whisper. She couldn't tell what it sounded like, but she was sure who it belonged to.

"B-Basch," she croaked in reply. The swaying motion stopped as his steps halted abruptly.

"What…" she struggled to force her voice higher. "Wh'bout the others…?"

For a long moment, there was no reply. He looked down at her, staring into her shut eyes.

"Everyone is safe." Allan lowered his voice the best he could, trying to match the soldier's deep and steady tones. "Safe and free. Rest, now. Everything will be alright."

Riley managed a weak, beaming smile before finally allowing herself to fall into sleep.

Allan could have facepalmed. 'Safe and free'? Really? Well. She seemed to buy it. Al started forward again, heading up the slope that would lead them out of the crevice and onto higher ground.

"Free, sis…" he murmured tremulously, hardly able to comprehend the word. It hardly seemed possible that it was true. Was it, really?

Allan glanced down at Riley's face, the traces of her joyous smile still lingering there. Could he ever afford her such comfort—such freedom of heart? What difference was there between the soldier's chains and the slave's? … Safe and free. There was something true about it. There was something boundless that followed the hearts of those pirates, the boy, the soldier and Lady. Those prisoners of his…no—they weren't. Even in chains. They were prisoners of none.

What kind of life would it be, anyway? Allan closed his eyes and could see her, his captive, face turned away from his outstretched hand. _Snarling_ at him. Desperate that he would just leave her alone.

Tears broke free and crawled slowly down Allan's face. Jonathan had it right. He'd known all along. The ones like them, the imprisoned from birth, the disgusting, the cowardly…the ones like him, like Jon, Danica, and little Alika…they could never be free.

She'd left him in prison; any life she had with him would be just that. It was too late for them to save each other.

….

"**Lift me up. Let me go.  
Lift me up.  
Let me go."  
**

She was awoken again by a deep and gentle voice. It was comforting and would have lulled her back into sleep, except that now she was eager to be awake. Forcing herself out of sleep, Riley pried her eyes open. She felt a bundled cloth under her head and a blanket wrapped around her. The pain had receded to a barely perceptible sting. It was dark with no fire, so it took a moment for her to make out the circle of stone walls: a nearly circular clearing made by a warp in the cliff face. The dark sky was open far above and the curving walls made a doorway-like opening. A minute later, she made out a general pale blue light reflecting from the stone walls—it wasn't night, but early dawn.

A smile forming on her face, she began to stir, but was stopped. Something felt off. There was no one here. Except for the owner of the voice, the clearing was empty.

Basch would explain. Riley lifted her eyes, expecting to see the soldier's scruffy-bearded face. Instead, she beheld silhouetted figure sitting in the mouth of the clearing, his back against the wall. His arms were draped across his knees as he stared out into the darkened desert. She knew immediately that it wasn't Basch.

Shock froze her in place. She recognized the figure as if she'd spent her life memorizing him—the way he looked, moved, the slope of his shoulders, the curve of his jaw. Fear rushed through her body like cold water. She knew that voice. For years she had heard it in her dreams.

"…ways knew it, I guess, just didn't want to accept it. To be angry all the time, like he was."

He was still talking…so he still thought she was asleep. Riley glanced around for an escape—but he was guarding the only exit.

"He won't look for us, I don't think. I'm sure he thinks me dead." At the next words, his voice darkened surprisingly. "As well as you."

Panic beginning to infect her mind; she dared raise herself onto her elbows, desperately silent. Her eyes flicked around the place, searching for anything to save her. She had to get away…!

"I don't understand…"

Riley froze solid. She turned her eyes to the black figure, catching a glimpse of his upturned face in the last rays of blue moonlight. She may have imagined it, but something on his cheek seemed to gleam in the dim light.

She had never imagined his voice could hold so much pain.

He took in a shuddering breath, speaking in a soft, trembling voice. "I only wanted to run…that was all. Just…just to be safe…" His voice broke and he stopped, gasping for a breath. He bowed his head, covering his eyes with one hand.

Riley trembled, but otherwise remained a statue, unable to move or react. Unable to believe it. What was she hearing…? She knew she didn't want to listen, and that she had to escape, but at the same time, she craved to hear more.

She heard him sigh, his hand falling as his head rested against the stone at his back. "It's too late now." His voice had returned to a lifeless, empty tone. "If you'd just…ah. It doesn't matter. I can't give you that anymore. But it…it wasn't your fault. It was so much to ask…"

Throat tightening, Riley's teeth ground together. Her claws carved jagged white lines into the stone floor. '_It wasn't my _fault_?' _Did he even know what that meant? '_So much to ask?' _She should have striven for it all her life.

Allan's head rolled around to gaze outside again, eyes turned upward to the sky. "Can't think of a better place than that for freedom," he remarked. The jaded smile vanished in an instant. "Not down here. Never with me."

Allan closed his eyes. His voice dropped to little more than a murmur. "…I'm a prison. That's all I can be for you."

Riley shook her head, wishing she could cry out, to scream her soul and be rid of it all. It wasn't right…it wasn't fair…

"I'll set you free this time."

She could take no more.

"_Shut up!"_

"**Just close your eyes.  
The sun is going down.  
You'll be alright. No one can hurt you now.  
Come morning light, you and I will be  
Safe and sound."**

Allan leapt to his feet, staring at her as if down the barrel of a gun. His eyes were locked in terror as she stood up, advancing toward him. He took a stumbled step back, gaping helplessly. "R-Riley…!"

"I don't want to hear anymore!" she screamed tearfully. Trembling, she shook her head, desperation in her eyes. "Please…"

"Riley," Allan whispered, breathless. Wincing, he felt the familiar stabbing pain in his chest. Her plea was a knife to his soul. "Y-you don't…you don't have to." He turned his eyes down, unable to bear looking at her. "I won't make you listen—even think about me. I'll disappear. I promise. Just…just wait a little longer, until we find them. I promise."

Riley screamed suddenly, clapping her hands over her ears, her eyes screwed shut. Allan barely had time to see there were tear-tracks down her face.

In an instant she crossed the distance between them. Allan staggered back as she slammed into him, nearly knocking him over—but then she stopped. Holding his arms out as if afraid to touch her, he gazed down at the top of her head in wonder, awestruck and confused. She was clinging to him for dear life…it wasn't an attack, but an embrace.

"Please," she sobbed, fists clenched on his shirt. "Don't tell me it's hopeless…"

"What…" he shook his head, at a loss. "I-it's not…! I'm gonna take you back. You've more hope than ever with them."

With a frustrated growl, Riley shoved him away. "Not for me! Stupid!" She shook her head almost wearily, but her teeth were clenched in anger. Tears spilled from her eyes. "_You_…"

He couldn't find any words. His mind was frozen. With unbelief he met his sister's eyes, searching for any hope, a sign that it was true. He saw it…beyond imagining, beyond doubt. Those pure, genuine eyes were desperate to save him.

Riley heard him murmur her name, and the next moment she found herself crushed in his arms. She buried her head in his chest, growling with tears. Allan laid his cheek on top of her head, his strong soldier's frame shuddering like frail leaves in cold autumn's wind.

"Alright…" he whispered. "I'll find a way.

I promise."

Slowly becoming quiet, Riley opened her eyes. Something he said still didn't seem right. Ugh…dear gods. Who cared! She'd had enough for one day. She wanted to fall asleep in safety, her brother safe with her, and be woken up in the morning by Vaan screaming at her about the Saurian. It didn't occur to her that they weren't all alive and well after the rockslide.

She just wanted her friends.

.~**~.

**A/N:** I know it's short and not much got done. Next time, though…next time. I've got some plot issues to work out but please bear with me! I'll continue as fast as I can, but no promises. I know they've been in the desert for FAR longer than they should have; I intended to move on by now. In all this will be what, 5 chapters in the Sandsea? Not too bad I guess. Anyway I promise we'll get to a new area soon. And back to the original game plot (at least a little), which I seem to have misplaced somewhere among all these plot bunnies.  
…I'm in class as I post this.  
I'm so gonna fail.

**Lyric headings: the **Chuck Testa commercial, twice "18-wheeler" by P!nk, twice "The Catalyst" by Linkin Park, and "Safe and Sound" from the Hunger Games book series and movie (XD who else is excited beyond compare?)


End file.
